In the Arms of Morpheus
by Water-smurf
Summary: First of Oneiroi Series. In the end, it all came down to the fact that neither of them had any better company and related to each other far too well. The line between what is acceptable and what is not is sometimes too blurry to tell. Redcloak/V, Semi-AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This started as a prompt on the Crack Pairings Matchup Table thread at Giantitp and spiraled into a story. I'm actually rather surprised at the quantity of romance stories I've been making in the OotS fandom-I generally stay away from that genre and just make characters run through hoops Saw style. At any rate, these stories are lovely ways of getting more well-versed with the characters and the way love and lust work, so I'm going to keep it up. Reviews, especially ones with criticism, are appreciated and I hope you enjoy the show.

Warning: The work is un-beta'd, and due to difficulties over on my end, anyone who's available as a beta for any OotS stories will be appreciated. Also, there are probably going to be sexual and violent themes later on in the story.

EDIT: I'm going to be revamping the stories in a little while, tying up a couple loose ends and fix some mistakes and such, but for those who don't know, this is the start of one really, really complicated series of stories called the Oneiroi Series. For those who need a chart, I've made one: ht tp:/ /www .gliffy. com /pubdoc/ 2131952/L. png which you can get without the spaces.

* * *

Redcloak scowled to himself, touching the patch over his empty eye socket gingerly, glaring as Xykon stormed out of the room. Tsukiko yawned, smirking at him, and shrugged.

"Tough break, huh?"

Redcloak sneered and glanced up at the holes in the ceiling and wall, inwardly cursing the undoubtedly monstrous price they'd have to pay to get them fixed. A little voice sounding painfully familiar was cursing his lost eye as well. He'd never be able to look himself in the eye in the mirror anymore.

"Be glad that I convinced him to _not_ kill our two only sources of information on the gates." He looked down at the two pathetic mounds in the separate cages up against the wall, tusks bared in disgust.

"Why'd I be glad about that? You're the only one who cares about information!"

"Because I'm apparently the only one with common sense. Get out."

Tsukiko yawned, smirking. "Don't mind if I do, Left-Eye." She spun and walked out.

She couldn't have known that her new nickname was far more than a mean-spirited jab. She couldn't have known that she had not only touched a nerve, but had stabbed it with a hundred knives before casting lightning on it. She couldn't have known what it did to Redcloak.

She couldn't have known, and Redcloak had no intention of letting her know. He slammed his reaction back down his own throat, staying stiff, his esophagus closing up, and his already-low body temperature from the freezing winds dropping a few degrees.

The elf then made the unwise move to uncurl very slightly from his-her-its fetal position.

"Neither of us is going to provide you information," the mage murmured.

Redcloak spun around, glaring and eagerly jumping on the opportunity to take his fury at Xykon, Tsukiko, the world, and most of all himself out on someone. A stupid, arrogant, morally flippant elf would do the trick.

"We'll see about that."

The paladin stood up shakily in his cage, having to grip the bars for support, and growled. "Have you no honor? He isn't even a part of the Sapphire Guard! Take me—at least there is a chance I know about the gates!"

"I hate self-righteous humans. You think you're so much better because you're willing to sacrifice yourself for some elf that's probably evil anyway?" Redcloak sneered. "I bet you wouldn't do the same if it was a goblin."

The elf was pathetic. Too weak to even walk on its own. (And Redcloak really did mean 'it'—it wasn't supposed to be some dehumanizing title. What gender was it supposed to be anyway?) It tried to stand up, but it failed miserably, knees buckling under the very slight weight put on them. Redcloak grudgingly admitted to himself that he'd have to take it easy on the torture if he didn't heal the mage. It looked half-dead already, complete with malnourishment, dehydration, and exhaustion, not counting the hits it took from Xykon. Redcloak, even in his own private rage, couldn't stop a flicker of pity in his heart.

But pity wasn't going to deprive him of his outlet for frustration.

"Come on. We're going to have a chat about the elves and their plans. Maybe we'll throw in a bit about the gates."

The monster in the dark cage's gold eyes peered out. "Awww… he looks so hurt…"

The human gripped the bars tighter, growling. "Please—"

"I… can handle… pain."

The elf had cut off the paladin, shocking even Redcloak. Huh. So the mage's pride, despite the horrible treatment of its body, was still strong enough to turn down other people's pity-driven attempts to sacrifice themselves so that it may heal. Either that or it had some weird masochism thing going on and felt that it deserved the pain.

Redcloak found himself relating to both a little too much.

The elf glanced up at the paladin, looking thoroughly broken and steeled at the same time. "Try to heal."

"I bet you both feel so noble." Redcloak rolled his eye. "Just like round-tooths. Always doing stuff that they think makes them look all righteous to their fellows, but they don't care when they rip apart honest goblin families." He opened the cage, picking up the elf easily as one would pick up a baby. The elf was dangerously light, even for its species. Redcloak would need to fix that if he had any hope of getting information out of the pathetic little creature in his arms.

The elf squirmed weakly, obviously trying to prove that it could walk and stand on its own but failing. It couldn't even make it harder for Redcloak to carry it. The little thing was so fragile and beaten that it felt like a life-sized rag doll.

Redcloak sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to heal you before I try any interrogation."

Obviously understanding that interrogation = inhumane torture through experience, the paladin started to throw himself against the bars, shouting things that Redcloak didn't care enough to even try to comprehend. The elf seemed to give up entirely, just lying limp in scaly arms that it had probably never felt before. Royal purple hair was tangled and ragged. Violet eyes, something that Redcloak had the vague impression of having used to glow with fierce pride and strength, were dull and distant. Skin, usually pale just because of race, was pallid with a gray tinge and gray and purple veins showing under the surface. Bruises the shape of finger bones were very pronounced on a delicate neck, a similar bruise surrounding one of its eyes, and bleeding cuts, scratches, and bruises covered various parts of the elf's body. Redcloak had a feeling that the elf was nursing a broken bone, judging by the way it was holding its right arm very carefully and was making sure it wasn't jostled in any way.

Redcloak couldn't really make himself feel sympathetic or guilty in any way. He had just lost his eye. The stupid mammal could deal with a broken arm.

Completely ignoring the paladin's protests, he carried the limp rag doll out of the throne room, climbing up the stairs. His clawed toes scraped and tapped against the stone, putting little scratches in the softer material, and the claws on his hands dug slightly into the elf's skin—not so much as to draw blood, but enough to discourage too much struggle. It wasn't as if Redcloak felt as though he had much to worry about. The elf obviously had all the fight forcefully ripped out of it. It was kind of sad in its own wretched way.

"I can't tell you anything," the elf suddenly murmured softly, voice hoarse from the screaming and strangling that had occurred mere minutes before. "I acted alone."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure you know something about the gates. You look sort of familiar."

"I know nothing about them either. Nothing that you would be interested in, at least."

"We'll see about that."

The stairs were spiraling, giving a really dizzy feeling in Redcloak's head, and the stones that created the wall, staircase, and railing all meshed together in the vision of the only eye he had left. Was this how his brother had felt?

No. He couldn't think of his brother. He would drop to his knees and cry, regardless of whether or not anyone else was there.

In his experience, it was generally pretty embarrassing for both parties if the interrogator randomly started to cry and blubber about a dead family member and the prisoner was stuck with the extremely awkward roll of patting the interrogator's back and saying some crap about how everything would be okay.

He paused, swiveling his head to compensate for his lost eye, and spotted a door fixed in the wall, a gold ring the only handle there was. He pulled at the ring, completely unconcerned with the fact that he had one less hand holding the prisoner for a moment, and pulled the door open.

…

Why was everything in this city blue?

Redcloak carried the elf into what looked like an old watch guard's quarters. There was a simple but comfortable bed against the wall under a window covered with iron grating overlooking the purple glow of the Snarl, a desk covered with half-read books and a half-used candle and with a chair pushed against it, and a door leading to a bathroom. Very simple. Very common. Very blue.

He put the elf on the bed with a little more care than he really wanted to and checked the books on the desk to make sure that none of them were spell books. All of them were silly human pulp fiction. He had nothing to be worried about, except for maybe the slow rotting of his brain cells just because he had _glanced_ at the things.

"Why did you bring me here?"

The elf tried to sit up on the bed, but apparently, it was too weak to do even that. Its elbow buckled under the weight of its torso and flopped back on to the bed with a stifled cry of pain.

"I need to heal you a little before I get rough. I'm not going to argue with Xykon to keep our sources of information just to kill one a minute later," Redcloak grumbled, pulling the chair from the desk and sitting next to the bed. "By the looks of things, not even healing's going to get you in shape for it. It looks like I have a few days of this stuff ahead. Seriously, have you eaten or tranced _at all_ for the last month?"

The elf was quiet, lightly cradling its right arm and avoiding eye contact.

"Elves are idiots." Redcloak carefully placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Cure Moderate Wounds."

The broken arm mostly fixed itself. It'd probably be tender for a few days, but at least the elf wouldn't be cradling it all the time and trying to keep from crying when it moved. There was a weird cracking sound inside the elf's ribcage, and Redcloak decided to interpret that as a positive thing.

The elf tried to stifle a moan of pain, trembling hands going up to hold a hurting chest. Redcloak paused for a moment, frowning, and slowly reached out a clawed hand to cup the elf's sharp chin, making its face turn slightly, digging nails into the skin until tiny beads of blood started to gather.

Left-Eye.

_Goodbye… Redcloak._

His brother shouldn't have died. Neither should have his family. What horrible things had this elf done in its life, minus accepting a soul splice? Had it ripped apart families and killed children and destroyed homes just because the species of the victims were supposedly always evil and therefore it was okay to hurt them? Had it appreciated the privileges the life of an elf—a supposedly always good species—gave it? Had it ever had to go through true suffering, the kind that only came with the knowledge that its family was dead or dying and there was nothing it could do?

"Let go of me."

The voice was somehow stronger than before, though still drained. The healing had probably kicked in a little.

Redcloak vowed to make this elf suffer the way his brother and family had to.

He let go of the elf's face, making sure to drag his claws a little deeper in than necessary, and glared. The elf seemed to find the strength to glare back.

"I'm going to put up some protections on this room and leave. You won't be able to escape, and you won't bother trying to. If you do, I'll tie you to the bed and let Xykon and Tsukiko do whatever they want. You're going to trance whenever possible. If you refuse, I'll start ripping off your or the paladin's fingers, whichever works best. Food will be brought up, and you will eat it. If you refuse, I'll force-feed you personally. I'm going to heal you until you are at least moderately healthy. If you try to resist, I'll throw a slave into the Snarl. Once you're physically capable of handling more than a shove in the wrong direction, you'll be interrogated mercilessly about the elves and the gates. I don't think I need to go into detail about what happens if you don't tell us what we want to know."

The elf was still glaring, fists clenched weakly.

"Let's see how long you'll be able to keep the defiance up."

With that, Redcloak left the room, closing the door and leaving it pitch-black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Supreme Leader?"

Redcloak spun around from staring out at the Snarl, frowning a little at the hobgoblin addressing him. "Yes?"

The hobgoblin put his hands behind his back and tilted backward and forward nervously. "The prisoner isn't eating or trancing. She says that she's not hungry or tired."

Redcloak rolled his eye to the sky, caught between being annoyed that he'd have to deal with this and being really grateful to have a chance to take his anger out on someone without looking like Xykon in his own… eye.

"I'll handle it. How's the search for Xykon's phylactery?"

"The troops haven't found it so far."

Redcloak sighed, shaking his head and starting towards the door. "Wonderful. I bet Xykon's in a great mood about that."

He went into the staircase again, claws scraping against the stone, and scowled until the elf's door was in sight. He clacked his claws together, eager to take his anger out and trying to ignore the growing disgust at himself.

Just because he was taking joy in the pain of another didn't mean that he was becoming like Xykon. It was a wretched little elf who had probably killed tons of his kind. It was perfectly reasonable to like hurting it.

He pulled open the door, allowing light to leak into the room outside of the soft glow of the Snarl. The elf, lying on the bed, immediately covered its eyes for them to adjust.

"What'd I say about eating and trancing?"

"I…" the elf squinted a little in the light, "I am not hungry nor am I tired."

"Save the lying for interrogation." Redcloak pushed the door closed behind him. His goblin eye was able to see fine in the low light, and the elf shouldn't have been having too much trouble, what with racial abilities. Redcloak glanced at the desk, picking up the uneaten stew left there, and walked to the bed. "Enjoy the food while you can. This is the best you're going to get—after you're healthy, you'll be living off gruel."

"That seems to defeat the purpose of making me healthy." The elf scooted up until it was thoroughly pressed in the corner, tiny limbs trembling with obvious exhaustion.

"You'd think so." Redcloak's eye narrowed a little. "Alright, I don't want to force-feed any elves. It's gross. So you can eat and make at least one of us happy, or you can still resist and make both of us unhappier than we already are."

The elf looked like it was going to resist for a moment. Redcloak gave a frustrated sigh and grabbed the spoon.

"That is quite alright!"

The elf flinched back and held out a lightly trembling hand. "Do not insult me. I can feed myself."

"Pride is all you have left, elf." Redcloak gave the spoon to the elf and put the pot on the bed. The elf's hand was trembling slightly. If Redcloak let it be, it would spill all the stew without even trying. "So much for that, I suppose."

He reached out with a clawed hand and rested it lightly on the elf's frail and bony one, steadying the tremors. The elf scowled but didn't try to shake the goblin off. The elf was very silent, ears drooping pitifully, as it ate, not bothering with words. Redcloak kept his hand on the elf's at all times, making sure it wouldn't shake.

"Why would you do this personally?"

The question surprised Redcloak. It was simple and curious—two things he didn't expect from anyone in the situation the elf was currently in.

"I'm a hands-on leader, I guess." He checked to see that the stew was finished before taking the pot and spoon away, standing and putting them next to the door. "Besides, your presence is not exactly something I want every foot soldier to know about."

The elf nodded slowly, looking away.

"This is the part where I 'convince' you to trance."

"I am not tired."

"I know that you're a big bad elf mage and I'm just a lowly goblin cleric, but I can tell the different between 'exhausted' and 'not tired,'" Redcloak sneered slightly, walking back to the bed. "I also have the ability to regenerate lost limbs. You want to see how many times you can deal with your fingers being ripped off?"

The elf glared, squeezing back into the corner a little more. "I am not tired. Bring any barbaric torture you wish—I shall not trance."

Redcloak paused, realization slowly dawning in his mind. If the elf had wanted to be rebellious, it would have done it by refusing to eat, even when Redcloak tried to force it. The trance thing wasn't rebellion. The elf actually felt that trance was worse than anything Redcloak could do.

Why?

Well, trance was the replay of memories in one's mind over and over, if Redcloak's research told him anything. That could lead to bad things if the given elf had gone through an incident that would warrant something like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or whatever. That was perfectly possible, especially with an elf looking as twitchy as the one in front of him. It reminded Redcloak of a really sad chipmunk hopped up on drugs and coffee. When someone was being compared to a depressed, hyper and stoned chipmunk, one knew that there was a problem.

Redcloak could understand nightmares. He understood the demons of one's past grabbing them at night and ribbing them apart. He knew what that was like.

His experience gave him unwanted empathy for the little creature in front of him.

"What's your name?"

The elf looked up in surprise, lips slightly parted, bloodshot violet eyes gleaming softly with wariness, hands clenched into fists on tattered and faded robes to stop their trembling. The veins under the elf's skin were still gray and well-defined, hair still wild and ragged, and its waist was dangerously slim. Redcloak had the feeling that if he had been sick enough to rip open the creature's robe, he would be able to count the ribs underneath a thin layer of skin. It was odd. Elves were, as a species, supposed to be very attractive. (Redcloak personally never understood it—he was a little hung up on the lack of tusks.) He doubted that even one of those horny human teenagers would find this sickly elf good-looking. Grief, anger, remorse, fear, shame, loneliness… Redcloak was so well-versed with the feelings that he was surprised that he hadn't seen them written in the elf's rather youthful face. Those were the feelings that drained beauty and health. Those were the feelings that made people, no matter their species, stay up at night and replay their lives before their eyes, thinking of all the ways they could have acted differently. Redcloak shuddered to think of how he himself would have fared if his dreams were composed entirely of crystal-clear replays of memories.

He could easily imagine preferring torture over such a sleep.

It took him a moment to remember that he had asked the elf a question that had still not received an answer. "What's your name? Is this a difficult question?"

"I am rather surprised that you care." The elf's tiny body was shaking. It tried to hide it, another sign of the pride that Redcloak had a feeling used to burn so brightly within this mage, but it couldn't be hidden.

"Filing issues. I can't exactly call you 'the elf' in any records when I start interrogating you. We're inevitably going to get a few other prisoners that fit that description."

"Perhaps the elf that helped lose your master's phylactery?"

The elf's eyes lit up with defiance and the pride was rekindled if only briefly. The skin glowed softly with inner health and the shaking stopped. Its shoulders squared and its lips went into a grim, determined line.

For a weird moment, Redcloak found himself glancing into a snatch of the past and present, looking into a puddle that he thought was shallow and only comprised of now, but reaching in and finding that he couldn't even touch the bottom. "Just give me your name. It's not like I can do much with it."

"I would prefer to know who I am speaking to first," the elf said, voice steely.

"Just call me Redcloak. Everyone else does."

The elf paused briefly, holding Redcloak's gaze. "My name is Vaarsuvius."

The defiance bled out. The elf's skin was ashen again. The shaking started again. The shoulders slumped slightly. The ears drooped slightly. The elf… Vaarsuvius… looked away, shrinking, and closed violet eyes. "I am not tired."

Redcloak scowled a little. He was in a dilemma, and he hated dilemmas. He could go the most satisfying route and just start dismembering and breaking the elf's fingers until it decided that enough pain made it sleepy enough to brave nightmares, or do what would actually work and try to figure some way past the nightmares.

Why was he so concerned about the prisoner's health again? Oh yeah. It wouldn't be able to sustain the torture of interrogation, much less Xykon's revenge and boredom, if it wasn't coddled at first.

He hated being the only logical one.

Redcloak sighed in frustration, and despite himself, he was already dissecting what little of the elf's behavior he had experienced and deciding how best to handle the situation. Pride? Defiance? He could deal with that. Didn't mean he'd enjoy it.

"Fine then."

Redcloak made himself comfortable on the foot of the bed, patting down his clothes until he found a small book in one of his pockets, leaning against the wall and flicking open the pages delicately.

"What are you doing?"

"If I'm staying here, I'm going to have something to entertain myself. I'm not going to depend on you for that."

The elf frowned, shrinking a little more into the corner. "Why are you staying here?"

Redcloak sighed again in exasperation. "It turns out that torture can only do so much, and forcing someone to sleep isn't included. So I'm staying here until you trance."

"Excuse me?!"

"You speak Common, right?" Redcloak rolled his eye and kept reading. "Just sit there if you like. I'm not leaving until you get at least eight hours of trance. I know that my… associates don't seem like it, but there are some people here that have more patience than that of a toddler."

The elf looked wary.

"Don't flatter yourself or insult me. I'm not like Xykon. I'm not going to hurt you when you're asleep. Especially in…" Redcloak couldn't stop a small sound of disgust in the back of his throat, "_that_ way."

The elf looked a little pacified but still wary. The elf hugged its knees and rested its forehead against them, one violet eye fixed on Redcloak, and the shaking receded slightly, gaze filming over slowly. It wasn't an ideal trance. It probably wouldn't be very restful. It probably wouldn't even help.

But it lasted longer than eight hours. There were a couple twitches, some whimpers, but no awakening. Redcloak stayed the whole time.

When the elf woke up with the softest gasp, it glanced up at Redcloak with a very confused expression on its face. Royal purple eyebrows were furrowed slightly, crawling up to meet gently as if the elf were trying to figure out a difficult logic problem. Without a word, Redcloak closed his book and walked out of the room.

---

"Supreme Leader?"

Redcloak looked up from the various papers he had dug up from the Azure City's royal library. The glow from the Snarl overcast everything, tinting the world in purple. The paladin was on the ground, his knees too weak to stand after Xykon's last game, and his eyes were fixed in a glare at Redcloak. Probably still sore about the elf. The monster inside the cage's eyes were still glowing cheerfully. Jirix was standing straight, scratching at an orange hand and shifting nervously.

"Yes, Jirix?"

"The prisoner refuses to sleep."

Redcloak stood up, sorting through the papers and putting them in a neat pile. "I'll handle it. Get these back to the library."

Jirix nodded and obediently picked up the papers while Redcloak walked out of the room, feet almost automatically navigating the stairs to get to the big stone door with a gold ring. He pulled at the ring, opening the door, and he closed it when he walked in.

Vaarsuvius looked up, violet eyes a little brighter than the day before, and the only thing that illuminated the dark room was the light of the Snarl. No sun. No moon. The stars were too weak to reach the window.

Redcloak walked up to the bed and sat at the foot again, taking a new small book out of his pocket and flipping it open. There weren't words this time. Vaarsuvius crossed its legs and tentatively closed its eyes, slipping into a trance.

From then on, Redcloak came back with a new book every evening and only left in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Redcloak frowned at the table, staring at the shadows made by the people sitting around it and the firelight. He didn't really need to keep listening. He knew what Jirix was telling him, Tsukiko, and most importantly, Xykon.

The phylactery still wasn't found, and the preliminary tunnel had already been searched by hand three times over by an entire small army's worth of hobgoblins. That left the sewage treatment plant, the labyrinth, and the… ocean.

He could feel Xykon slowly heating up in pure, unadulterated fury at the head of the table.

Redcloak inwardly sighed, cursing his vow to protect all goblin kind.

"That's enough, Jirix." Redcloak stood up, giving Jirix a small glare, trying to communicate the fact that he had to get out of the room as fast as possible. "Organize teams of our most trusted soldiers and start by searching the treatment plant."

Jirix got the unspoken message loud and clear. He immediately grabbed the reports he had lain out in front of himself, not bothering to take the time to sort them, and zipped out of the room.

"So. We still don't have my phylactery, Redcloak."

Xykon's voice was dangerously soft. Redcloak's eye remained fixed on the table. Tsukiko shifted nervously, standing from her chair and backing up slowly from the table.

There weren't any windows in this dark stone room. The only light came from the torches on the wall. Redcloak had a feeling that it used to be a dungeon.

Why did he concentrate on architecture when he was probably about to be killed?

"That's what he just said."

Xykon's empty eye sockets stared darkly at Redcloak. Heat was gathering, the lich its crux. "This is because of your 'sources of information.'"

"You can't kill them. They're the only ones who we have that can tell us anything about the locations of the next gates."

"Oh yeah." Xykon sneered. "Like that's what you want. We've had the damn paladin for months and we have nothing. And I've noticed the nights you've gone missing to the elf."

Redcloak frowned, a weird shock of surprised cold stabbing through his chest. "What are you implying?"

"Implying nothing. I'm saying that you're sleeping with the damn thing."

Redcloak shook his head, rubbing his temples. Of course that was where Xykon's mind would go. Oh well. It wasn't important. "Xykon, we're doing all we can to find the phylactery. Try to be patient just a lit—"

"I'M DONE BEING PATIENT!"

Redcloak was blown back along with the table. He found himself with what felt like twelve tons of stone table crushing his ribs and squeezing the life out of his organs. His eyesight exploded in red, and he couldn't feel his arms…

"IT'S BECAUSE OF _YOUR_ FRICKING PRISONERS!"

A spell—Redcloak didn't have the time to see what—slammed into his face, cracking his head against the floor and eliciting a weird popping sound from his neck. He felt blood going down his face, and he had a feeling that some of his scales had been blown off.

He was having trouble breathing and blinding, excruciating pain was bulleting through his ribs. The table was on them. They were breaking and bursting or collapsing his lungs. He needed to be healed quickly.

"Oh, you want me to stop?"

Nothing felt as cold as the lich hand grabbing his head firmly.

"Let me tell you, Reddy—we've barely gotten started."

---

Tsukiko scrambled out as soon as Xykon was too distracted to somehow randomly shift his fury onto her.

She closed the door behind her, breathing a soft sigh of relief. Jirix was standing there, his papers clutched to his chest, his eyes wide. The sound of Redcloak's beating was bouncing off the walls, no doubt striking the fear of the twelve gods in the hobgoblin's heart.

"Is there a reason you're still here?"

Jirix looked up quickly, trying to shake off the nervousness that generally arose when one heard one's Supreme Leader being beaten to a bloody pulp in the next room. "I… had a message for the Supreme Leader."

"Give it over to me." Tsukiko started walking jauntily through the hall towards the spiral staircase. "Looks like I'm taking over Reddy's job for the next… month it'll take for him to heal up from this. Not like Xykon's going to let him just heal himself."

Jirix frowned, but followed her slowly with his papers clutched. "Then I'll handle the paperwork, but you should know that the elven prisoner refuses to sleep."

The theurge glanced back at Jirix, a slight smirk playing across her face. "Awww, she misses Reddy?" She shrugged. "Why are you telling me this? Figure it out for yourself."

"The Supreme Leader likes to handle the prisoners personally."

"I'm sure he does. I don't know, go give her warm water with orange or something. That's what Granny always did for me."

"Warm orange water?"

"Or drug her. Or give her a glass of scotch. Or just not bother with it." Tsukiko shrugged and started climbing the stairs. "Forget about the sleep thing and concentrate on finding Xykon's phylactery. If the prisoner wants to exhaust herself, let her." She paused on one of the steps. "Do you know if she's a she or a he?"

Jirix made a small shrug.

"Huh. I'll ask Reddy at some point."

With that, Tsukiko started up the stairs again.

---

It was freezing. That was all Redcloak knew. He didn't feel pain, just cold.

None of the fires were burning. Xykon was gone. He wasn't quite sure how long had passed, but it must have been at least a day. And he was having severe hypothermia. One of the major disadvantages of having cold blood.

He was probably seriously hurt.

His fingers were numb. He lightly ran the tips of his claws over his body, feeling for any holes or abnormalities. Instead of feeling his scales, he found the hard surface of the table.

Redcloak weakly pushed it off. Blood drained back to his body, but the lack of feeling didn't lift. He struggled to breathe. It felt like there were a bunch of important things broken inside of him. He was too cold to really feel the pain that must have been screaming from everywhere.

He ran his claws lightly down his body again, looking for something life-threatening, and one of them snagged on a post-it note. He groaned softly and brought it up to his eye, thanking the Dark One mentally for Darkvision.

_'If you do anything but the healing you need to live through tomorrow, I'll make sure you don't even _**see**_ tomorrow.'_

Redcloak pulled the paper off his claw, letting it flitter to the ground. He gingerly put his hands on his stomach, struggling to breathe. "Cure Minor Wounds."

This pain got through the hypothermia. He threw his head back, cracking it on the ground, and screamed as his ribs turned to molten bone and reformed partially and his organs started trying to rearrange themselves correctly. His own voice bounced off the stone, deafening him, but he had to keep going.

"Cure Minor Wounds!"

He could taste blood in his mouth, rolling inside his throat. His eye was boiling in its socket. His body was bucking against him, screaming to make the pain stop.

"Cure Minor Wounds!"

His body gave one last mighty roar and then slipped into the blissful numbness of hypothermia.

Redcloak let his arms fall limp on the cold stone ground, his claws letting out loud clacking sounds. His scales were moist. His breath was hot. His blood was everywhere…

He needed to snap out of it and get to his study. It was the closest room where he could lick his wounds for a bit.

He reached out and scrabbled at the ground, trying to find some purchase, and his claws latched on to the seams in between the stones. He pulled himself forward slowly, dragging against the floor, and slowly slipped away from the blood and overturned table. He dragged himself to the wall and laboriously got to his knees.

Despite common sense, he praised the Dark One for the existence of hypothermia. It relieved what he was sure would have been horrible pain otherwise.

He struggled with the door for a moment before opening it up and dragging himself to his feet. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, he staggered into the hall, holding his ribs gingerly, and slowly walked to his study.

Redcloak had never felt as grateful as when he could sit down at his chair in front of his desk.

He sat there for a while, letting the hotter temperature provided by the fire on the walls and in the hearth banish the numbness, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain that washed over him.

Pain had a tendency to make time fade away. Redcloak had no idea how long he was just sitting there, wondering whether or not it would be worth it to 'accidentally' fall on the ground and re-break one of his ribs to make it stab his heart or something. Slowly, he swiveled his head to make up for his lost eye and glanced at the clock.

Either it had gone back in time or it was at least twenty-four hours since his beating.

Redcloak would say that he had been out for about two days, judging by the condition his body was in. He tentatively prodded himself everywhere, stifling soft groans of pain and trying to accurately decide how much damage he'd taken.

His final analysis was 'enough.'

He glanced up at the clock again, automatically remembering that it was almost time for him to go to the elf or it wouldn't sleep. He stood up slowly, testing out his legs before putting too much weight on them and deciding that they could deal with walking. He slowly padded into the next room, which was his personal kitchen for the late nights he'd have researching and he wanted tea. On autopilot, he checked the small fridge tucked into the corner that he supplied himself with and grabbed a small tea kettle from on top of it, pouring milk into it slowly before setting it on the stove and turning on the flame.

Still not quite sure why he was doing that or if his brain had finally decided to quit and was just giving out random electrical impulses in its death throws, he closed the fridge door and walked into the bathroom, slowly stripping off the bloody clothing.

He was careful to make sure that the shower water was lukewarm. He didn't want to kill off his body tissue with a violent swing from hypothermia to scalding water. Redcloak used his claws to wash out the blood clotted and congealed between scales, careful to keep from hurting himself more, and checked his open wounds a little more closely. None of them were still bleeding and he didn't think that most of them were really deep. He would live. It'd hurt, but he'd live. The worst he had at the moment were bruised ribs and pain.

Drying off is always easy with scales and no hair. Redcloak pulled on a clean cleric's outfit before limping back to the kitchen, pouring the now-boiling milk into a thermos. He added a little honey and cinnamon to it, making sure to stir before closing it up. He quickly bandaged a few of the worst of his injuries to make sure they wouldn't reopen before picking up the thermos and a book and walking out of his chambers back into the hall.

He wasn't paying much attention while he walked through the hallway and climbed the stairs. He was too preoccupied with the pain in his torso. It was only when he saw the stone door with the gold ring that he remembered why he was up there.

Redcloak wondered briefly why the prisoner was still a priority right after he wakes up. He was probably getting a touch desperate for company that wouldn't be snarky, break his ribs, or constantly call him 'Supreme Leader.'

Should he be angry at the prisoner for his current condition? After all, the elf was the reason he was punished.

He entertained the idea for a moment. Anger was always so satisfying. Blame was always so sweet.

But he shrugged it off soon enough. He was too mature and intelligent to allow himself to submit to such a base instinct. He could be angry at the elf for being an elf. He could be angry at the elf for the undoubtedly dozens of goblins it had wantonly killed. He could be angry at the elf for the privileges it had just because everyone, even the gods, had arbitrarily decided that its species was a good one. And he was angry.

He just wasn't angry at the elf for workings for survival or fighting for its beliefs.

He rubbed his bruised ribs one last time before opening the door and stepping inside, closing it behind him as usual.

There was a soft rustle and Redcloak glanced up to see Vaarsuvius sitting up quickly on the bed, eyes wide and glowing softly to compensate for the low light.

Redcloak nodded, trying to disguise his limp as he walked to the bed and holding out the thermos. "This is supposed to help with sleep. And it's good for elves. Don't worry—I didn't drug it."

Vaarsuvius nodded slowly and took it between significantly more steady hands, apparently deciding that it could trust the drink and taking a small sip. "…Thank you."

Redcloak gave a small nod and leaned against the wall while sitting at the foot of the bed, savoring the feeling of cold against his back privately. He glanced at Vaarsuvius's face, noting that the dark circles under violet eyes, gentle tremors, and general signs of exhaustion had returned.

"You haven't been trancing."

Vaarsuvius took another sip, violet eyes fixed on Redcloak.

"You weren't here yesterday or the day before."

Redcloak gave a small one-arm shrug.

"You're hurt."

"What gave you that idea?"

Vaarsuvius scowled, ears twitching, and crossed its bony arms. "Treat me as a prisoner if you wish, but do not insult my intelligence. You were limping when you came in, areas of your body are bulging slightly under your clothes—probably bandages—and you have a contusion along with a deep abrasion on the back of your head, among other things." The elf cocked its head, arching an eyebrow imperiously. "It did not take much deduction."

Redcloak couldn't stop a small smirk, looking away from Vaarsuvius's face. "What can I say? You know, if I were in your shoes, I'd watch what I was saying a little more closely." He rubbed his ribs gently. "Trance. Your healing's probably been set back a few days."

"When are you going to treat me as you have obviously treated the paladin?"

Redcloak paused, staring at the stone floor and rubbing his claws together slowly. He flicked up his gold eye, staring at the elf and frowning. "When you're healthy."

"That seems like a poor incentive to help myself."

"But you'll do it anyway." Redcloak shrugged. "Xykon won't be patient. He'll eventually get tired of taking his frustration out on me and move on to you and our other prisoner. At least this way, you might survive."

"So you are looking out for my welfare?"

Redcloak shrugged. "Sure, if you want to look at it that way. I need to keep you alive." He glanced at Vaarsuvius. "Drink more of the milk. It helps with nightmares."

Vaarsuvius stiffened, violet eyes wide, and sputtered for a moment. "I…! How did you know about those?!"

"You somehow felt that having your fingers removed would be better than trancing and you refuse to trance unless someone is with you." Redcloak gave a small smirk. "It did not take much deduction."

Vaarsuvius looked slightly miffed for its own line to be turned around on it. "I…"

"Don't worry about it." Redcloak shrugged. "We've all messed up badly at some point or another or gone through something that made nightmares. It's worse if your sleep's just made up of memories. Just keep drinking or trance."

Vaarsuvius paused, then nodded slowly and finished the milk. "Very well."

The elf put the thermos down and slowly crossed its legs, slipping into a slow trance. It didn't take Redcloak too long to fall asleep himself.


	4. Chapter 4

The elf smelled like flowers and wine. How did Redcloak know?

Well, waking up with his face in the crook of its neck probably helped.

Redcloak straightened, trying to work a kink out of his neck and frowning. Vaarsuvius was still trancing, an expression of relative peace on. Redcloak stood up, stretching, and despite his hurting neck, he felt well-rested. He carefully prodded his ribs, finding that they still hurt, but he was far from dying. He glanced at the elf, giving it a once-over with his eye, and nodded slowly. His tusks had left shallow imprints on its neck and Vaarsuvius was far from the picture of health, but it should only be a matter of a few days now.

"Are you going to return to them so early?"

Redcloak started a little. He hadn't realized that the elf had woken up. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"It is likely that your master will hurt you again, only this time you will not live." Vaarsuvius pulled at the tattered robes on it and slowly stood up, knees almost buckling at the weight it was no longer used to carrying. Redcloak automatically came forward, clawed hand gripping the elf's arm to keep it from falling, but Redcloak found himself shrugged off. "You do not need to carry me again. At any rate, it seems simply unwise to leave so soon. If my sense of time has any meaning, it is the early hours of the morning. Perhaps five o'clock."

"Really?" Redcloak glanced out of the barred window, frowning a little at the lack of sun. "Looks like you're right. You shouldn't be awake yet."

"I tranced little even before my… disturbances." The elf ducked its head, flushing a little. "I am simply readjusting. My point remains."

Redcloak frowned for a moment. "Why do you care?"

The elf glanced up, scowling a little, and wrapped what remained of the ragged gray robes around itself. "My apologies. I was under the impression that you did not enjoy being beaten so badly that you are rendered immobile for two days. _My mistake._"

"Watch it." Redcloak frowned, tensing a little. "My patience doesn't last forever. The only reason you're not stripped to your underwear on the floor of a cage is the fact that you're still weak."

"I doubt that you would harm me." Vaarsuvius frowned darkly. "Not yet, at least."

"You're overestimating me."

"If you think so." Vaarsuvius glared defiantly before its knees buckled again under its weight. Redcloak automatically caught the elf, hoisting it up like a rag doll again and scowling. "Unhand me!"

"Sure. And let you keel over." Redcloak let out a long-suffering sigh and gently placed Vaarsuvius back on the bed. "Don't get so excited."

"You are not my nursemaid!"

"As of now, yeah, I am."

The elf flushed. Redcloak tried to hide a small wince when his ribs gave him an irritable twinge of pain.

"Eat cherries."

Redcloak frowned in confusion. Vaarsuvius slowly hugged its knees, looking away with ears twitching. "Tart cherries. They're natural painkillers. My parents gave them to me when I once twisted my ankle and we weren't in the vicinity of anyone who had the needed spells to help it. It was a little less than a hundred years ago now, but I remember that they were quite effective."

"…" Redcloak frowned a little. "Thanks. I'll try that." He slowly sat on the bed again, reaching out and cupping the elf's chin gently, forcing it to turn its face so he could look at it. His claws lined up exactly to the little dots they had left before. He wasn't so rough this time and the sharp points didn't penetrate the delicate pale flesh, gold eye scanning skin that was looking considerably pinker. "You're getting healthier."

"Probably due to your ministrations." The elf squirmed. "Please let me go. I will turn my face for you if you wish—I prefer to not be forcefully touched."

Redcloak paused, then released the elf gently. "Your eyes are still a little bloodshot and your hands still shake. A little more time."

Vaarsuvius nodded slowly, shrinking a little against the wall.

"I know that you're quiet, but try being even quieter now. Xykon's in a very bad mood and is probably looking for an excuse to turn you into an example."

"I suppose that will happen with liches when one forces them to lose their phylacteries." Vaarsuvius's eyes glowed slightly with defiance.

"Yeah, yeah, you put the biggest dent in his confidence out of anyone and you're proud, I get it. He'd still rip you apart when you're in this condition." Redcloak held the elf's gaze. "Don't be stupid."

"I have no intention of making another blunder." Vaarsuvius ran a hand through tangled hair. The elf looked up again, frowning. "You must be tired."

"Not really." Redcloak rubbed his ribs gently. "I'm used to little sleep. I had more last night than usual."

"Oh! So you were sleeping with me, then? Well, next time, would you care to wake me up and inform me?"

Redcloak put his hand over his mouth, hiding a small smile. "You're not supposed to make jokes like that with your jailer."

"To quote a comrade of mine, 'You walked right into it.'" Vaarsuvius had a small smile on a face that obviously hadn't had many for a while. Light, teasing light, danced a little in its eyes just before it faded and both sobered, neither being ones to hold on to flashes of humor for long.

Redcloak glanced at the window, noting that the sun was rising. He looked back at Vaarsuvius, gold eye dimming in the increasing light. "Food should come soon for you, but I need to get to work." He started to stand up, but a warm hand, still shaking a little from weakness, touched his arm.

He looked back down and the elf jerked its hand away as though it had been burnt, apparently just surprised as Redcloak. It ducked its head briefly before looking up, smoothing its expression.

"I simply wished to ask if you were coming back this evening," it said in the same tone one would use to comment on the weather.

Redcloak quirked an eye ridge. "Of course. If I can't, I'll have someone come and tell you why not this time." He gave a small smile before standing up and picking up the forgotten thermos on the ground. "Try walking a little, but not too far away from the bed. Your legs are probably just not used to walking anymore."

They both exchanged nods before Redcloak left.

---

"Supreme Leader, reports of attacks from landside and the shore are coming in!"

Redcloak popped another cherry in his mouth, chewing it carefully before looking up at Jirix, frowning. "Give me the reports."

Jirix put a small stack of papers on Redcloak's desk. "We've already lost a handful of scouting teams and a couple of guards on the edges of our territory."

Redcloak started flipping through the papers slowly.

"The survivors report two adventuring parties—one purely elven and one is the one that we fought in the battle for Azure City."

Redcloak looked up, frowning in concentration. "The adventuring party for Azure City? That was the Order of the Stick, right?" He rubbed his temples. "I should remember something about it. But I don't remember what I forgot."

"I didn't remember either until the reports." Jirix frowned nervously. "Sir, they're missing their spell caster. I couldn't recognize him because of the hair, but he's the elf in the tower."

Redcloak stiffened. "How do you know? Did you get a good look at their spell caster during the battle several months ago?"

"I got a decent look, sir. That, and a couple of the adventurers were shouting 'For Vaarsuvius!' while slaughtering our troops."

"…That is a good reason to know."

Redcloak frowned at the papers on his desk. "Jirix, get our best clerics and spell casters together. Throw illusions and enchantments all over the city and put up any other spells you think will help. Send in reinforcements to the affected areas and try to drive the parties away from the places we're looking for the phylactery. They can't know that it's lost."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll tell Xykon and Tsukiko about this then come back to help the rest of you enchant the city. Before that, I need to speak with the prisoner." Redcloak got up slowly. "Leave the reports on my desk. You're dismissed."

Jirix repressed a wince when his leader got up and left, shoulders squared and claws subconsciously sharpening against his scales. He would hate to be the prisoner right now.

---

Redcloak slammed open the stone door with the gold ring, eye blazing, and Vaarsuvius almost jumped off the bed in surprise, a raven that it had been speaking softly with popping out of view at the foot. The door swung closed behind him and he grabbed the elf's tiny shoulders, claws tearing painfully into the flesh and eliciting a surprised and hurt cry, and slammed the small body into the stone wall.

Blood flowed freely from his claws, staining the ragged robe, and Vaarsuvius squirmed in his grasp, stifling pitiful, plaintive, distressed mewls. "What—?!"

"You didn't tell me you're part of the _adventuring party that's been fighting us since the start!_"

He slammed the elf against the wall again, cracking its head against the stone. Vaarsuvius's eyes glazed for a moment in pain, trying to see through the agony ripping through its recently healed skull, and blood stained the stone that its head hit. It shook itself, trying to ease the pain away. "You did not ask…"

Redcloak back-handed the elf's face, claws leaving deep scrapes in its cheek, blood dripping down slowly. "Don't take me for a fool, Vaarsuvius!"

"You're hurting me."

"I know that!"

Redcloak slapped the elf again, adding another set of bloody scrapes to crisscross the others. "Tell me about what they plan to do!"

"If they are here, as I am willing to bet due to your behavior, I assume they mean to save me! I know nothing of their current course of action!"

"Like hell you don't!" Redcloak slammed Vaarsuvius against the wall again, and this time, the elf couldn't stop a soft groan. "I've been too soft on you. Interrogation starts now. What are they going to do?!"

"I do not know! Our only goal is to stop Xykon from annihilating the world! How we do it is not planned far ahead!"

"What kind of adventuring group would be so unorganized?!"

"Ours!" Vaarsuvius squirmed, blood sticking on its shoulders, face, and hair, gritting its teeth against any sound.

"Tell me how to beat your party. Tell me anything that could possibly assist in defeating them."

"You know that I won't betray my comrades."

His claws started digging deeper, provoking spurts of blood. "Then let's go on to your familiar. Have you tried using it to get a message to your allies?!"

"Of course! But your spells prohibited it! Why else do you think he was still here?!"

Redcloak slapped the elf's cheek again savagely, ripping through the skin. Vaarsuvius let one little cry escape before stifling any further noises, blinking back tears of pain quickly. Redcloak could see the fierce struggle the elf was putting up to keep signs of weakness from showing. "Watch your mouth! What about the elves?! You're here and suddenly they _happen_ to come?"

"I don't know why they are here! I don't have any affiliations with them! _I have not seen anyone from my village besides my family for six years!_"

"Don't take me for a fool!" Redcloak slammed the elf against the wall again, listening to the sound of the fragile skull bashed against the stone. At this point, he might as well have been bludgeoning the tiny elf's head with a club. Vaarsuvius couldn't keep from going limp, head lolling forward and blood dripping down in dark streaks. "Elves have come and you, an elf, are our prisoner. You see where my logic's going?!"

"Your only proof of my association with these elves is the fact we share our species!" Vaarsuvius shuddered despite itself with pain, eyes glazing a little. "We may not even be the same subrace! I am no more affiliated with them than you are affiliated with every bugbear settlement in the south!"

Vaarsuvius gave an involuntary spasm of pain, gritting its teeth, glaring at Redcloak, giving him an ultimatum, somehow: continue and suddenly find himself spinning off into Xykon's uncaring monster territory, or stop and admit that he had mercy where the elf would have probably had none for a goblin.

Redcloak dug his claws deeper, the warm sticky fluid flowing past his scales, and then he stopped all at once, taking his hands away and letting the elf slump to the ground, a path of blood trailing from the back of its head. He didn't look at Vaarsuvius at first. He only looked at his stained hands.

Vaarsuvius shook, staring at the blood gently splashing on the floor, hesitantly touching one of its shoulders and wincing when a finger brushed up against the ragged slices, gritting its teeth hard.

There was a soft rustle of cloth and a clawed hand reached out, holding several dark red berries in its palm. The elf hesitated, then slowly took one of the cherries and popped it into its mouth, careful to not swallow the pit.

Redcloak took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the cuts on the elf's face gently, murmuring too softly for even elven hearing to make it out.

"I've been too soft on you."

He cleaned the cuts on the elf's face with the care one would expect from a nurse. Vaarsuvius's eyes flicked up, glaring defiantly. Redcloak tilted the elf's head so he could examine the gash on the back of it, judging it to not be as serious as it looked.

"Get your hands off of me."

"You should have your cuts cleaned," Redcloak muttered absently, pressing the cloth against the gash gently.

"The cuts you gave me!" Vaarsuvius wrenched out of Redcloak's grip, holding a small pale hand to the head gash and standing up shakily, glaring. "If you believe that you are too soft, very well. Be harsh. If you believe I need care, very well. Be tender. Do not be both!"

"I'd think that you'd be happy to get help, elf," Redcloak said softly, standing up to meet Vaarsuvius's gaze.

Defiance and fierce pride smoldered in the elf's eyes. "I do not need your help. I do not wish my tormentor to nurse me, and I do not wish my medic to cut me. Make your intentions clear, Redcloak—do you mean to hurt or heal me?"

Redcloak stared at the fierce elf before him, keeping his eye carefully expressionless. Vaarsuvius's hair was wild and sticky with blood. Its face was starkly pale with streaks of angry red lining its cheek. Its robe was torn and stained.

And for a scary moment, Redcloak knew why humans waxed about the wild beauty of elves so often.

"Why won't you accept help where it is offered?"

"I need to know where to categorize you."

Redcloak flicked his eye up and down the delicate elf's body, forcing the weird feelings in his gut back with shock. "You're bleeding. Let me touch you for a moment."

Vaarsuvius shook a little. "Will you heal me only to hurt me again?"

"…" Redcloak frowned, hesitantly holding out a stained clawed hand. "I've hurt you all I will for today. I'm going to heal you for now. I'll come back this evening. We don't have to talk about any information you may have until the morning."

Why was he being friendly?

"Are you my friend or my foe, Redcloak?"

He didn't know how to answer that question. Instead, he took the elf's arm gently and gave a soft 'Cure Light Wounds' under his breath.

"I guess you'll have to figure that out for yourself."

He drew his hand away, watching the cuts on Vaarsuvius's cheek mend themselves, and he walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Redcloak had almost been scared to go back to the elf's room. That brief moment of desire, of outright _lust_, had left him fearful and unsure. The person inside of him insisted that he had only imagined it. He was a goblin and a self-proclaimed species-ist, and had never and never would be attracted to anything but a goblin female. The scientist inside of him just shook his dispassionate head and reminded him that no person was purely one thing (except for maybe Xykon—he was pure evil) and that, seeing as he had felt such lust many times before and had acted on it many times before, he could undoubtedly say that the feeling, no matter how fleeting it was, had been no more imagined than the death of his brother.

At the same time, both of the segments in his head agreed that there were ways this could be explained away. He could have been stressed. His brain could have misfired. It could have been the product of a stray subliminal thought. He could be worrying over nothing.

Or he could be inviting certain disaster by continued interaction with the admittedly fascinating elf.

Either way, he was not one to let emotion get in the way of his work. He didn't let his eye or face betray anything about him when he opened the door.

The elf was lying face-up on the bed, violet eyes tracing the stones on the ceiling, and glanced at its visitor. It immediately sat up. "R—"

"We don't need to talk if you don't want to. Not yet." Redcloak closed the door and slowly walked to the foot of the bed.

"What will one night do?" Vaarsuvius ran a hand through its hair, staring up at Redcloak with a surprising lack of nervousness. "I want to know what my comrades are doing."

"Trying to find and save you, I guess."

"I want to know what you know about them. I want to know if they are okay."

"They're okay enough to kill my troops." Redcloak's fingers twitched in his lap. "Trance, Vaarsuvius. You're going to need to be healthy more than ever for tomorrow."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Redcloak looked up, gold eye locking with violet.

"Please answer."

"…"

Redcloak sighed, shaking his head and looking away. "If you don't cooperate."

Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. "Then do not be kind to me."

"Are you that rigid, really?" Redcloak frowned darkly. "You're so desperate for some sense of order and black and white decisions that you'd turn down help where it's offered?"

"I am not asking for order and black and white decisions. I am asking what I should think of you as!" Vaarsuvius stood up sharply, knees wobbling a little in protest. "Should I think of you as, if perhaps not a friend, a benefactor? Or should I think of you as my so-called interrogator?"

"Why do you need to label me?" Redcloak stood up slowly, fingers twitching a little, ready to catch the elf if it fell. "I'm not interested in seeing you suffer for the sake of it. I'm not interested in you wasting away. I'm interested in furthering my goals for my species, preferably without unnecessary loss of life. You have information I want. I'm not going to stop myself from hurting you to get it. But if you're hurt, I will help."

"There is no label for that!"

"Exactly." Redcloak sighed. "Don't bother labeling everything in your life."

"I know I can't do that." Vaarsuvius's eyes glazed for a very brief moment. "I have been finding that out as of late." The elf shook off the brief daze. "But please. Don't put up a front."

"I'm not putting up a front!" Redcloak frowned darkly. "Don't assume stuff about people you don't know. You're my patient. A patient that I am going to harm, but a patient."

"I do not need a tormentor's nursing!"

With that, Vaarsuvius's knees promptly buckled under the weight they didn't want to hold. Redcloak caught the tiny elf easily, one arm under its knees and one on its upper back. The elf immediately started squirming, slamming a weak fist against his chest, barely doing anything against the hard scales underneath the cleric's garb. "Unhand me immediately!"

"By the Dark One, you're stubborn."

"If you are my enemy, let me fall!"

"And let you hurt yourself?"

"If you are planning on doing it yourself, I have no idea why you would care at all!"

"You're my patient!"

"And your prisoner! Let me go or I swear—"

Neither was quite sure what happened. On later reflection, Redcloak figured he may have just been looking for a way to shut Vaarsuvius up and went with an impulse he should have examined before acting on. Impulses, desire, social interaction in stressful or unusual situations… they were all very unpredictable. Neither of them was responsible for trying to deal with these things. Or that could have just been a story he told himself and there was a completely different and more uncomfortable reason. Either way, the result was the same. One moment, they were fighting, the next, they were kissing.

It took both of them a good minute to process what was happening. They were acting without thought, only instinct that was deeply ingrained in every single sapient species. A stray thought, yet the most immediate one, informed Redcloak that the elf was very warm. It wasn't an overwhelming heat, like direct sunlight hitting the same place for hours, but it was more like warmth from the sun that peaked briefly from between clouds during an otherwise cold day. Soft. Steady. Pleasant. Far from golblinoid.

The elf made small fists against the goblin's chest, navigating past the tusks with slight difficulty but slipping into a position that allowed better access. Redcloak's brain started catching on to what was happening slowly, trying to hold on to the edge of his sanity and drag it back to the forefront, trying to impart that this wasn't a really, really crazy dream.

The elf made a gentle sound in the back of its throat. Maybe it was supposed to be a word. The Dark One only knew. Redcloak felt awareness slowly filtering back in his brain. He was kissing an elf. He was kissing Vaarsuvius. He should stop. He should really stop. He didn't want to do this.

"Stop," Vaarsuvius said softly, parting their lips. It was the first to pull away, eyes wide. With that little word, the spell broke.

Redcloak stiffened, gold eye glowing a little brighter. Vaarsuvius averted its gaze, silenced for once. A weird sense of awkwardness, fear, and something neither were brave enough to try to name hung in the air. Redcloak slowly put the elf on the bed and turned away. Claws scraping against the ground, he left.

He didn't come back that night.

---

"Jirix."

Jirix looked up from staring out of the giant hole in the tower, turning to see Redcloak, obviously back from appraising the troops. "Have either of the parties gotten through the illusions?"

"Not yet, sir. They're all completely lost. But the spell caster in the elven party is catching on and starting to try to undo the spells and it looks like the adventurers are trying to think of ways to see past the illusions."

"Good." Redcloak stared up at the dark night sky through the giant gap, frowning, the gentle glow of the Snarl tinting the very air.

"Sir, the prisoner should be interrogated soon, if you don't mind my saying."

"I know."

There was an awkward silence.

"Would you like me to do it, sir?"

"No."

Jirix didn't press the point. Anyone who knew about the presence of the elf knew that their Supreme Leader had been sleeping with her (or was it a he?) since she had been captured. Jirix wasn't quite sure how comfortable he was with the idea that his leader was sleeping with an elven prisoner, and even less so when the possibility of force or coercion was put into play, but he wasn't one to judge. If his leader didn't want to interrogate his lover, it was perfectly understandable.

But Jirix couldn't help but admire the fact that his leader was willing to face the situation he had knowingly put himself in.

"Savages. Dishonorable… please, let me take the elf's place," the paladin said for perhaps the millionth time since they took the elf away. No one had probably told him that he was in much worse shape accommodations-wise than the elf.

"Will you stop that? It's really starting to get old." Redcloak distractedly waved a hand. "Jirix, get as many more illusions out there as you can. Make mazes, make monsters, make rabbits, I don't care. Just as long as it'll slow them down."

"Yes, sir."

"If you can capture any of the elves or an adventurer that looks like he's be a little looser-tongued, keep them in the dungeon and tell me. I'll handle it." Redcloak paused for a moment. "And don't bother me while I'm interrogating. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while." He turned around, gaze still rather distant, and left the room, going immediately to the door with the gold ring.

Vaarsuvius looked up sharply, a raven on the tiny shoulder—the elf's familiar—popping out of view with an angry caw.

Redcloak was tempted to avert his eye, but he kept his gaze steady. He pulled up a chair to the bed slowly, sitting down and crossing his legs. "We're going to start this slowly."

The elf stared at him, millions of emotions flashing through big violet eyes.

"Where is your village?"

"I…" Vaarsuvius still looked rather distracted and conflicted. "I would prefer not imparting that information."

"I won't tell Xykon. Your home will be safe for now."

"You wouldn't know it. It is secluded in the elven forests—few elven allies even know of it."

Redcloak paused, frowning a little. "We'll get back to this." He tapped his claws together, making a small clicking sound. Vaarsuvius frowned suspiciously. "I want to see your familiar."

The raven remained invisible and Vaarsuvius only narrowed violet eyes stubbornly. "I am not about to let you hurt him."

Redcloak stayed leaning back, gold eye resting coolly on the elf. "I won't hurt him. If anything, I'll hurt you."

Vaarsuvius stifled a small flinch, glare darkening and lips pursing.

"Vaarsuvius, I don't want to cut you again. Show your familiar and let him decide, if you want."

The elf held Redcloak's gaze grimly, eyes flicking down very briefly to see the goblin claws gleaming. "…Very well."

A raven popped into view on the elf's shoulder, making little sounds at the back of its throat.

Redcloak slowly held out a clawed hand, clicking his nails together. "Well, then. You can either fly to me and this will go smoothly, or you can try to fly into the corner or something and I will be forced to hurt your master until you come down."

The bird didn't hesitate.

"Blackwing, don—"

The familiar—Blackwing—completely ignored his master and flew to Redcloak's hand, glaring in a way only ravens could. Vaarsuvius stiffened but didn't move to touch Redcloak.

Redcloak raised one hand and ran a claw down the raven's wing, examining him closely for any signs of trying to break through his boundary spells. A few feathers were slightly singed—obviously, he had tried—but none were burnt enough to say the he had been able to actually get through them. Satisfied, Redcloak made a slight gesture with his hand and the raven flew off, disappearing again.

"Why have you not hurt me yet?"

"I'm not going to be eager to slap you around." Redcloak looked the elf up and down, avoiding its eyes. It was obvious that it hadn't tranced the night before.

"Why won't you present yourself in a consistent manner?!" Vaarsuvius's fists curled up tightly and the violet eyes blazed defiantly.

"This is an interrogation. Act like it or I'll force you to calm down." Redcloak shifted and tapped his claws together. "I'm going to ask you about the Order of the Stick. This time, I'm not going to leave it up to my claws to do the hurting."

Vaarsuvius glared darkly, staying sullenly silent for a few seconds. "I will not betray them."

"I don't expect you to. I expect you to feed me a bunch of bogus information, then eventually give me as little hard truth as possible when I call you out on your lies and torture you even more because you, like every other wizard, probably used Charisma as a dump stat."

Vaarsuvius was silent.

"I don't want to hurt you, Vaarsuvius. I will if I have to."

"Then please try to explain something to me."

Redcloak frowned, shifting uncomfortably, instinctively knowing what subject was about to come up. "Yes?"

"As embarrassing as it is for both of us, it happened. Why?"

Redcloak had no problem understanding the elf. He also recognized the obvious stalling tactic—Vaarsuvius was probably even less eager to acknowledge it than he was—but he went along with it. "I don't know."

"One of us must! People don't _do_ things for no reason!"

"One of these days, you're going to have to accept that not everything is logical." Redcloak averted his gaze. "Just pretend that it didn't happen."

"But it _did_ happen."

"I know. You know. Doesn't mean we need to acknowledge it."

"But you…" Vaarsuvius shook its head, hair looking a little more wild than usual. "First, you carry me to make sure I do not get hurt. Then you threaten me. Then you make sure I eat, and you start sleeping in my room to make sure I can trance. Then you give me milk to help my disturbances, completely without solicitation. You show compassion and kindness. Then you hurl me against the wall, slap me numerous times, and make me bleed. Then you heal me. Then you tell me that you will hurt me again. Then you _kiss_ me. Tell me what I am supposed to make of you!" Vaarsuvius stood up from the bed, muscles tense, legs wobbling a little.

"Get back into your bed or I'll have to catch you again, and the Dark One knows what will happen this time."

Vaarsuvius quickly sat back down. "I need to know what to make of you."

"I don't know what to make of myself." Redcloak rubbed his temples. "Look, don't do this. I'm about to get very violent with you and I'd prefer not to get into this kind of conversation beforehand."

"If I can deal with this confusion, you can deal with guilt!"

Redcloak scowled a little at the snappish retort.

"If you are going to hurt me, at least do me the courtesy of being consistent! I do not know if you are kind, cruel, or… or something else that I cannot think of a word for at the moment!"

"You're getting flustered."

"Of _course_ I'm flustered! In the last few days, you have alternated dramatically between helping me fall asleep, beating me until I bleed, and… and _kissing me_ all in quick succession!"

Redcloak sighed softly in his head. He might as well get the elf to stop talking. It wasn't as if any more damage could possibly be done.

"I need you to—"

Vaarsuvius didn't complete its sentence. The likely reason was because it was difficult to keep speaking when lips were pressed against its own.

Redcloak pulled away before going far, leaving Vaarsuvius effectively mute. He was glad to note that he didn't feel anything from the peck. He could use it as a tool if he needed to. "Alright, then. I'm going to ask you about your party. You're going to answer my questions."

Vaarsuvius nodded numbly.

"I want to know their full names."

"You know most of them. The others are travelers and you would therefore gain nothing from their names."

"Just answer."

"Very well. You wish to know their names and that is useless information. That is my answer."

Redcloak paused for a moment. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I have given you my answer."

Redcloak raised his hand, spreading his fingers and brandishing his shining claws. Vaarsuvius leaned forward, taking his face in cool pale hands, and kissed him softly.

Redcloak promptly froze, slowly lowering his hand and resting it lightly on the elf's waist. The kiss was polite, chaste, warm. Redcloak's throat closed up a little. A weird mix of fear and something else he didn't care to name clenched his chest. For some weird reason, he was more shocked by this than any other time. The first could be explained away as impulse. The second time it was a tool he used. This time, it was a tool being used against him. And it was _working._

Damn it.

Alright, then. This was the part where he closed the door they had opened up.

"Stop it." Redcloak pushed Vaarsuvius away, frowning darkly. "I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"Neither do I and yet you did the same." Vaarsuvius scowled a little and crossed its arms.

"Then we both should stop. I'm your jailer and you're my prisoner, or I'm your medic and you're my patient, or whatever our relationship is classified as at this point. Either way, the power balance is unequal and physical relations are completely inappropriate."

"I agree." Vaarsuvius arched an eyebrow. "I also think that it is inappropriate for a medic to beat their patient or a jailer to nurse their prisoner."

"Here we go again." Redcloak shook his head. "Look, stop trying to distract me. I need this information and you have it. Accept that I'm going to hurt you to get it."

"I will accept it if you promise to act purely as my jailer and tormenter from then on."

"You'd drop dead from exhaustion if I didn't come here for you to trance."

"You shouldn't care."

"I'm not giving you a choice in how I treat you."

"Then I suppose that you will have to accept that, if you let this relationship remain uncategorized, it will get more disorderly and convoluted with inappropriate lines being crossed," Vaarsuvius said dryly.

Redcloak looked up at the ceiling. "Have I told you that you're stubborn?"

"Yes."

Redcloak shook his head, remembering himself. "The names of your comrades. I want them."

"I won't give them."

"Damn it, Vaarsuvius!"

Redcloak stood up sharply, grabbing Vaarsuvius's arms tightly, claws digging deep into the delicate flesh, eliciting a hastily stifled wince. "I can find out in other ways! They're in the city! They're not subtle in the least! Then you'll be hurt and I'll have the information anyway!"

He pulled on the elf so roughly that it was forced to stand up from the bed, its only support the claws stuck in its skin, blood trickling out from the edges of the wounds they were causing.

"Don't be stupid about this. I don't want to hurt you."

"_Why?!_ Why don't you want to hurt me?!" Vaarsuvius squirmed, eyes burning hot with defiance. "I'm a _prisoner!_"

"People aren't cans! Relationships aren't boxes!" Redcloak shook the elf violently. "They can't be labeled clearly all the time!"

"But they can _some_ of the time!" Vaarsuvius glared, chin turned up proudly. "I will not have my emotions played with and batted around as if they were a feline's toy!"

"Will you just cooperate for once?!" Redcloak threw the elf down on the bed roughly, glaring. "You're still delicate! I could _kill_ you during interrogation if I'm not careful! Why don't you just shove your loyalty and confusion and pride in some dark corner for _once?!_"

"That is all I have here!" Vaarsuvius's fists clenched on the bed and its eyes narrowed furiously. "I have made many mistakes, Redcloak. I will not add to it by betraying my comrades, even if my health or my life is on the line."

"We've all made mistakes!" Redcloak leaned down, propping himself up by his hands on either side of the elf and leaning in to glare. "Get over it and try to save yourself while you can."

Magic, long stagnant within the elf's body, started shifting tangibly without form. It felt like a small tugging in Redcloak's stomach, the scent of thyme and rosewood, magic, heavy in the air. He wasn't worried. It was only a sign that the elf was angry and determined—harmless.

"I refuse, Redcloak. Hurt me if you wish."

Redcloak's eye flashed and he slapped the elf hard, claws ripping through the fragile skin. Vaarsuvius stifled a cry, turning its face back and glowering at Redcloak.

"Their names. Give them to me."

"And allow you to use them to track down any possible family members of theirs?! I'd sooner die!"

"Then you will!" Redcloak grabbed Vaarsuvius and tightened his grip on the elf's arms, tearing through flesh and making blood flow. "Inflict critical wounds."

Vaarsuvius promptly started to scream, trying and failing to stifle it. Bones cracked inside of the tiny body. Giant wounds ripped open all over it, blood blossoming and flowing without warning. The arm that Redcloak had healed on the first night twisted and snapped in two, eliciting a shout, and the bed was stained red.

"Give me their names!"

At this point, Vaarsuvius seemed to decide that it was impossible to stop the screams and just focused on keeping the tears of pain in check. The elf gasped, trying to get air into lungs threatened by ribs snapping like toothpicks, and coughed, eliciting another shout of pain. It grit its teeth furiously, forcing its eyes open, and through the blood and sweat and pain, it glowered rebelliously.

Vaarsuvius was beautiful.

"I shall _die_ before I betray them," Vaarsuvius hissed, venom dripping from its voice.

Redcloak reached out, eye cold, and gripped the broken arm, eliciting a stifled cry of pain. "I'll give you one last chance. I want their names and any other information you can provide that would help fighting them."

Vaarsuvius's glare didn't waver. "Do what you want."

Redcloak's grip tightened on the break. Vaarsuvius's teeth clenched and its eyes flared with pain, but the defiance and pride didn't leave.

All at once, Redcloak closed his eye and looked up at the ceiling. "I've been too soft. Cure critical wounds."

Vaarsuvius stifled a soft groan of pain as the spell went quickly to work in fixing everything the last spell had broken, healing over the gashes, regenerating blood, and mending the snapped bones within. Redcloak let the elf's arm go, absently running a claw through its royal purple hair. "I've gotten soft."

"Please stop confusing me."

"I'm confusing myself."

Vaarsuvius winced and there was a soft clicking sound in its torso. "You can't toy with me and my emotions like this."

"It was never my intention."

"Your intentions are meaningless! Your actions—"

"You're one to talk." Redcloak rolled his eye. "Just shut up for once."

Vaarsuvius stiffened and fell into a flustered silence.

Redcloak looked out the window, noting how dark it was. "It's late." He lightly ran a claw down the healing elf's face. "Trance."

"I don't know what to think anymore. I am tired of trying to make sense of it."

"You'll feel better in the morning if you trance."

Vaarsuvius looked up at Redcloak with a weird mixture of wariness and fatigue and pride in big violet eyes, straightening out torn and bloody robes. "Are you going to leave tonight?"

"No. You have my word."

"Are you going to hurt me again?"

"Not this time."

Vaarsuvius was quiet for a moment. "If nothing, you have been honest with me." The elf slowly backed into the corner, closing its eyes and slipping into a trance. Finally, thoroughly exhausted, Redcloak fell asleep as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Redcloak woke up reluctantly, but willingly. He didn't want to deal with everything he knew he would have to, but he knew that he had to. The story of his life.

He sat up, stretching out his back, and looked to see Vaarsuvius sitting in the corner, eyes studious and bright. "Someone slept well."

"I do not know why."

"You were tired." Redcloak stretched and stood up slowly.

"It's still early." Vaarsuvius averted its gaze. "Are you sure it is wise to go so soon?"

A tiny smile played across Redcloak's face. "Don't get me wrong: Xykon is a horrible, horrible abomination. But he's not really the type to randomly snap and break his right-hand man's ribs often. He only did that because he's frustrated about his phylactery. You don't need to be worried."

"I am not _worried._" Vaarsuvius gave a small pout (Redcloak chuckled inwardly at the likely reaction the elf would have at the fact that any expression it made could possibly be classified as a _pout_) and averted its gaze even more.

"Sure."

Redcloak cocked his head, contemplating the little elf in front of him. "…Food will come soon."

"Have there been any developments with my comrades?"

Redcloak shrugged. "They're not dead as far as I know. I'll tell you if I hear something significant that won't give you too much information about us, okay?"

Vaarsuvius nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. "It is very generous of you. Thank you."

"No rants about how I'm not acting consistently?"

"You've proven that you have no concern about that. Continual protest would be a waste of my energy."

"You've proven that you have no concern about that."

"Stop repeating what I say."

Redcloak smirked. "I only do it when it's applicable."

Vaarsuvius frowned a little at the wall before slipping to the floor, standing on wobbly knees.

"Vaarsuvius, you're going to fall again."

"I think that my legs are getting stronger, and I wish to evaluate something." Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. "Yes, I think I will be able to walk on my own soon."

"Great. So I won't have to catch you again?"

Vaarsuvius blushed, turning its face away in a vain attempt to hide the new coloration. "You didn't have to in the first place."

Redcloak rolled his eye. "Whatever you say, Vaarsuvius. Just don't fall and get hurt while I'm not around to pick you up."

The elf was still blushing. "I can pick myself up."

"I know. It's easier on you if you have help." Redcloak took some cherries out of a pouch at his hip and popped them in his mouth. "I'll be back tonight." With that, he was gone.

---

Redcloak stood out on the tower, staring up at the Snarl, frowning and getting just a little nervous at the presence of the deicidal abomination. He was feeling increasingly restless, a feeling he knew that Xykon shared, but he wasn't comforted at all by the prospect of a bored, impatient lich. Xykon was happy as long as he was amused and he felt safe. Being an epic-level sorcerer lich, those conditions were usually easily met.

But missing his phylactery had obliterated all sense of security, and that made for a very angry Xykon. That in general was a bad thing, so Redcloak had to concentrate on finding his holy symbol before Xykon completely lost it and lashed out at anyone and everyone that could possibly be blamed for this situation.

Something flickered in his heart. He wanted to go back to the stone door with the gold ring. He wanted to be back with Vaarsuvius, probably the only person there besides perhaps Jirix who he could actually enjoy the company of. The elf was proud and rebellious, but in an admirable way. Despite himself, Redcloak had grown to… respect it? Car—

No. Not anything down that road. Just respect. It was more than easy to respect someone who shook Xykon's foundations so completely and pile so much defiance on top of it in an obviously hopeless situation, no matter what trouble it caused himself.

The scientist in him shoved the memory of the three kisses into his mind, loudly proclaiming that _that_ certainly wasn't a mark of mere respect. The person inside of him hid the memories and made sure that the scientist was firmly bound and gagged in a dark corner so he couldn't bring up anymore uncomfortable truths.

"So you finally got back from the elf's room? Did you sleep with her or torture her? Or both?"

Redcloak almost jumped in surprise, spinning around to scowl at a smirking Tsukiko. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"All the slaves are settled down. They thought they could rebel. How cute." Tsukiko grinned, crossing her arms and sauntering up to Redcloak, a spring to her step. "So you really do like us mammals more than you say. How does it feel to do it with someone who is actually warm and squishy for once in your life?"

Redcloak gave a small sneer, shaking his head. "You're disgusting. I should have only expected it." He turned around, walking to the edge of the tower and looking from the Snarl to down at the foot of the damaged castle. "I'm busy trying to think of our next strategy. It would help if you left."

"Strategy is no fun. Talking about your sex life with the prisoner is."

"It's a pretty one-sided conversation, Tsukiko." Redcloak closed his eye, pressing his palms together and trying to concentrate despite the nuisance next to him.

"Is she a screamer?" Tsukiko purred softly, smirking. "The formal ones usually are. Or maybe that uptight wizard thing extends to the bedroom and she's just really, really quiet."

Redcloak gave a small sigh. "If you won't leave, I will." He contemplated trying to deny that he was sleeping with Vaarsuvius, but he figured that that would only prove his guilt in Tsukiko's eyes. The woman had a very warped sense of logic.

He started towards the door.

Tsukiko grinned and cupped her hands around her mouth so he could hear her better. "You don't seem like the type to sleep around! Are you in love with her? 'Cuz if you are, I'm never going to let you forget it!"

"I'm sorry, when did you graduate fifth grade? Last week?"

"It's a classic!" Tsukiko started to jog after him, her grin widening, and they started down the stairs. "Hey, Reddy, as a special favor, when Xykon eventually gets you to soak her for information and kill her off, I'll make a special zombie spell for you! You can do her all you want and you won't have to hear that annoying stuck-up voice of hers."

Redcloak tensed, his step faltering.

"I can even make her warm or cold, how you like. You seem to be more into cold girls—reptile thing, I guess—but you might've developed a liking for the finer temperatures of bodies." Tsukiko frowned thoughtfully. "We'd have to change her clothes, probably. Let her show off what she's got. I can barely tell what sex she is under those robes."

Redcloak felt his muscles tighten and his claws sharpen against his scales, readying to slash Tsukiko right across her face. The idea of the prideful, defiant, fiery, _alive_ Vaarsuvius being turned cold, silent, a glorified sex toy in clothes normally reserved for street-walking whores. Losing the warmth that made it so valuable. Losing the pride and rebellious attitude that made it beautiful. Losing the ability to speak all of its thoughts, to be honest with Redcloak about how _exactly_ it thinks about him and what he does… losing what made Vaarsuvius Vaarsuvius…

"Hey, are you going to respond or am I going to have to go into even more detail about the things I can do for your zombie?"

Redcloak kept his temper carefully in check.

"You're a very, very sick woman. Go and make sure the slaves are in their proper jobs."

Tsukiko stiffened slightly, frowning. "Do I hear an _edge_ to your voice?" A smirk grew, her mismatched eyes practically glowing. "Oh Gods, you really _do_ love her!"

Redcloak glanced back at her, frowning. "That's the problem with you and Xykon. You're both too lazy to actually investigate things, so you just go with your first assumptions. Go and watch the slaves before they decide that they want to rebel again."

"Whatever you say, Romeo." Tsukiko gave a cackling laugh, making her sound more like a fairytale witch than anything else, and sat on the stone railing, sliding down.

"Who's Romeo?"

"Read up on old human plays!" Tsukiko gave another cackling laugh. "It's a great one, Reddy! Romeo and Juliet! It'll give you good insight on how this story will end." With that, she had slid down too many revolutions to be heard.

Redcloak rubbed his face, hoping that Vaarsuvius hadn't heard anything through its door, and started walking down the steps, seeking out Jirix for more information.

---

The ground was hot and the air stank of gun powder and sulfur. The ruined human houses stuck up towards the sky like the jagged teeth of a giant. Smoke and the ever-present purple glow of the Snarl obscured the sun and light, making it feel light twilight. The sound of hobgoblin armies beat through the streets, giving the dead city a heartbeat to replace the one it lost in that one valiant struggle.

"Haley, you're going to have to stop pacing at some point." Roy looked up at the darkening sky. "Night's going to come soon."

Haley ran a hand through her boyish hair, scowling at Roy while the rest of their party worked on prying open a semi-intact old inn for shelter ("No, Belkar, yer goin' ta slice yerself up if ye let Elan throw ye through th' window!")

"V's been missing for… how long have we been gone?"

"Long enough." Roy sighed, frowning and crossing his arms. "Look, Haley, I'm worried too. Vaarsuvius is my friend as well as part of my party. I don't want him hurt anymore than you do. Pacing won't help."

"Apparently, neither will actually _looking_ for him!"

"I don't know what they did. They cast a spell or something."

"That'd be easy to fix with a spell caster."

"I know, Haley." Roy looked at her hard for a minute. "Go and scout for a bit. Burn off the restless energy. Make sure you're back here soon."

Haley and Roy stared at each other for a moment, and slowly, she relaxed. "Thanks, Roy." She turned, checking to make sure that she still had her bow and her new knife handy, and jogged off into the streets.


	7. Chapter 7

There were some things that were clear-cut in this world. Food, water, and shelter were always needed. The ground wouldn't randomly cave in underneath your feet without reason. Every person has motivation. There were also some things that weren't as clear-cut, such as whether or not it was moral to kill someone because they were from a species that was supposed to be irrevocably Chaotic Evil, or to kill someone because they were one of the people who thought that of your species. Especially when things such as love and hate get involved, it was near impossible to really understand what the difference between them was. After all, love and hate were brother and sister, far from opposites. Their opposites were indifference.

Redcloak knew he wasn't indifferent when he was staring down at the beaten and bloody elf at his feet.

Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, loathe to let even a small whimper out, and glared up at Xykon rebelliously, wiping blood gently from its lip.

"Oh come on! What's your Constitution score? Did you use that _and_ Charisma as a dump stat? Seriously! This is no fun!" Xykon pouted in a way that only liches could pout, holding out his arms, blood sticky on his phalanges and remnants of dark magic sparking from the tips of the finger bones, making the empty stone room underneath the castle smell strongly of licorice. The only others present inside was Tsukiko, her mismatched eyes dancing while she stared at Redcloak, and the monster, though Redcloak wasn't sure how he had gotten down there in his cage.

Vaarsuvius's face was streaked with blood and its robe was stained with it, purple hair almost red. What wasn't scarlet was starkly pale or black and blue. The elf's hand remained firmly at its ribcage, lips white with pain, and it didn't take much deduction to infer that its bones had taken on too much pressure over the course of the beating. Redcloak wasn't sure if Xykon did this out of pure boredom or malice. Probably both.

"Xykon, why did you ask me to come down here to see this?" Redcloak asked softly, keeping his temper on a very tight leash and slowly kneeling so he was at face-level with Vaarsuvius, trying to check to see how deep the gashes were.

"I assume he liked showing off his sadism," Vaarsuvius said scathingly. No more venom could have possibly been found in any other voice imaginable. The elf gently started to try wiping away the blood on its face. In that little movement, Redcloak caught sight of completely black burns traveling up and down the elf's arms, possibly going further than that. Healing would be needed.

"Ooh, spark! That's nice to see in prisoners these days. Usually it's either sniveling or silence. Where's the fun in that?" Xykon's skull remained immobile, but Redcloak could tell that he was smirking. "But anyway, I figured that it'd be fun to see your reaction."

"She kept from screaming, even when Xykon got the spikes out! Just like Mr. Stiffly!" the monster said cheerfully, jiggling his prison a little. "She got a little pale after she bled a lot, though."

Redcloak looked up and glared at Xykon, ignoring the monster. "Remember the gates, Xykon? Yeah, we need information on those. Killing our prisoners won't help." He lightly put his hand on the elf's arm. "Cure moderate wounds."

Vaarsuvius avoided eye contact, hissing softly in pain.

"Don't be a buzz-kill, Reddy. I'm bored with playing with the paladin." Xykon shrugged. "Teevo has nothing good on. You've been coddling the elf for so long that I figured that it should get some blood flowing. He-or-she can barely walk." He made a wild gesture with his hands. "Seriously! Push the thing off the stairs or something! It'd be totally hilarious."

Redcloak scowled, moving to pick up Vaarsuvius. "Yeah. Hilarious. If you'll excuse me, I'm taking the elf back to its room."

Redcloak could tell that Vaarsuvius was biting back a protest. He was glad that the overly prideful elf had figured out that right then was a bad time to drag attention to itself.

"One last thing, though."

The voice held a distinct strain of seriousness, something that usually was followed up by violence. Redcloak immediately glanced up, stiffening, and his eye darted towards Tsukiko and the monster briefly. The monster let out a soft whimper, but Tsukiko had no idea what was coming. Neither did Vaarsuvius.

The elf looked up sharply at Redcloak, noticing his tension and immediately put on edge by it. Its hand twitched in its lap, an incomplete gesture, and it cocked its head. "Redcloak?"

"Oh, how cute. He-or-she knows your name. And can tell if you're upset." Xykon's smile looked very, very fake, as if he had a realistic mask and had put it on.

"Xykon, we need the elf."

"Yeah, I find that you're the only one that thinks that."

Redcloak's heartbeat quickened, the pulse going loudly in his ears. Xykon didn't used to be so volatile to the point that Redcloak was genuinely afraid of calling him out on something. He supposed, with dark humor, that losing his immortality guarantee would do that.

Vaarsuvius felt the faster beat in the goblin and pursed its lips worriedly. "Redcloak…?"

"You're the only one who's keeping me from making sure the little corksucker gets what it deserves for sending my frikken' phylactery to the sewer. In the name of information. Guess what? I figure that information and tactics are more for stuck-up wizards. You see, Reddy, I forgot for a little bit there that I depend on brute force for a reason." Xykon sauntered up slowly, holding out his phalanges, palms-up. "Namely that I've been able to prove over and over again that, at a certain point, tactics can't do anything against it. Now, the elf has a few disadvantages."

The lich held up one finger. "One, it's a frikken' wizard. I'm sick of those guys babbling about how hard they worked and how much smarter they are than sorcerers because we actually were born with magic in us."

Vaarsuvius tensed up, watching Xykon warily, and Redcloak stood. "Xykon…"

"Two," he held up another finger, "it's an elf. Part of another stuck-up group that's always looking down their noses at everyone. Yeah, that pisses me off."

The monster whimpered again. Tsukiko's grin seemed to freeze a little on her face, slowly realizing that everyone in the room was treading on thin ice. Redcloak stood in front of Vaarsuvius despite the small protest of 'I can protect myself, Redcloak.'

"Three," another finger, "it lost my phylactery."

Magic started to gather inside of Xykon.

Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, starting to grasp the real seriousness of the situation, and tried to pull at Redcloak impatiently. "Redcloak, get out of the way."

"Four," another finger, "it hasn't paid for that yet, unlike the paladin."

Redcloak braced himself. The elf fell silent.

"Five, you're the one protecting it. And I happen to be more than a little angry at you right now, Reddy." Xykon stood in front of Redcloak, face frozen in a perpetual skeletal grin and eyes glowing red. "I suggest you get out of the way now, bitch."

Redcloak clenched his fists and set his mouth in a grim line. Vaarsuvius froze up, understanding what the goblin was really doing for it.

"Alright, then. It's always more fun to do this with more than one person."

A fist planted itself firmly in Redcloak's stomach, crushing his solar plexus and making him double over with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and a cold, bony hand planted itself on the back of his head. "Fireball."

Redcloak decided that he really, really disliked being on the receiving end of a pissed-off Xykon's spells.

He slammed into the ground, fire licking at his back, but he kept his teeth firmly clenched.

"He is your subordinate!" Vaarsuvius instinctively draped its arms across Redcloak's scorched back, perhaps not realizing what it was doing. "Why would you attack an ally?!" Vaarsuvius looked up and glared.

"Oh, look, someone else wants to play. And here I thought he was using you."

Xykon backhanded Vaarsuvius, leaving a dark red mark on the pale face. The elf recoiled and glared. "Attack your enemies, Xykon. Not your allies."

Tsukiko snickered and Xykon stepped over Redcloak to get closer to the elf. "Alright, then."

Vaarsuvius threw its arms in front of its face with a muttered 'Damnation' just in time for Xykon's meteor swarm.

The spell sent the elf hard against the wall, bruising any affected patch of pale skin. Vaarsuvius allowed only a grunt of pain to escape, slowly struggling to stand only to have its legs buckle, unable to handle the weight after the consistent abuse that they had been suffering.

The elf looked up and glared, teeth clenched against the burning, throbbing pain in its arms and back.

"Meteor Swarm."

Vaarsuvius jerked its hands up again, slamming against the wall, stones bigger than its fist battering its delicate body, the jagged ridges of the rock opening up slashes and squeezing blood from the pale flesh.

"Meteor Swarm."

More flaming rocks, burning through the skin and tearing open the tiny body. The elf fell down completely to its knees, unable to continue bracing itself, and desperately tried to stifle the sounds rising in its throat.

A sharp kick came onto the mage's ribcage, eliciting a cracking sound and forcing Vaarsuvius to let a tiny cry escape.

Cold bones, still functioning as fingers, reached down and grabbed the elf's matted hair, holding it up only by that, and a phalange, hot with magic, fisted on Vaarsuvius's forehead. The wizard tried to stifle an expectant wince.

"Meteor—"

"Xykon."

A clawed scaly hand grabbed Xykon's arm, pulling the fisted phalange away, and looked up at what was undoubtedly going to be a very angry lich. "It's done. You don't need to beat Vaarsuvius anymore."

Xykon glared at Redcloak. He slammed the elf's head against the stone once before dropping it. "You've got a lot of nerve. This is the last time I let you sleep with a prisoner."

He missed Vaarsuvius's expression at that.

He punched Redcloak hard in the stomach. The goblin doubled over, keeping any sounds of discomfort from voicing themselves.

"Necromancer chick, get the monster back upstairs. I need to wash this icky organic matter off my phalanges, and I think I know what I want to do with the stuck-up elf."

"Whatever you say, Xykon."

Tsukiko smirked down at Redcloak and Vaarsuvius, letting the monster out of the cage for a moment, quickly giving him the umbrella to keep himself covered. The monster glanced over at the elf and goblin, dragging the cardboard cage behind him as he walked towards the door.

"Don't say anything to them. Looks like their a bit busy concentrating on not ending up like Romeo and Juliet." Tsukiko smirked and cheerfully jumped out after the exiting Xykon, practically glowing in her abdomen at the sight of his thoughtful, malicious expression as he went down the hall to find a sink.

"Who're Romeo and Juliet? Are they friends of Xykon?"

"Seriously? Am I the only one who actually reads this stuff?!" Tsukiko rolled her eyes and both she and the monster were gone.

There was silence for a while. Only the sound of labored breathing.

Redcloak grit his teeth against the pain, instinctively sharpening his claws against his scales and standing, slowly staggering until he was able to kneel in front of Vaarsuvius. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." A gentle clawed finger brushed the matted violet hair from the elf's face. "Cure moderate wounds."

Vaarsuvius gave a soft sigh of relief, looking up while the cuts on its face mended themselves. "You should heal yourself first."

"I wasn't the one who took several Meteor Swarms to the face." Redcloak gently started healing himself.

"Why did you protect me?"

The goblin was silent.

"It was not for the possible information you can gain from me. I have been far from forthcoming and I am not an entirely useful resource. Either way, you could have always healed what was left before I died and taken me back to my room. Why did you protect me?"

Redcloak shrugged, wincing a little at a twinge in his back, and picked up the elf gently. "I don't like the idea of you becoming another of Xykon's playthings and getting hurt in the process."

"Why not?" The elf scowled a little, but that was the only protest Redcloak got for picking it up. At least Vaarsuvius knew its own physical limitations.

"Why did _you_ help _me_?"

Vaarsuvius didn't answer.

"I say that we both ignore the question and get you to your room."

"No." Vaarsuvius squirmed, forcing Redcloak to let it down, keeping firm hands on the tiny arms to make sure the elf didn't fall. "We ignore too much."

"Vaarsuvius, you're tired. Healing can do a lot, but the fatigue is still there. Let me take you to your room."

"There you are again!" Vaarsuvius scowled, squirming a little. "You're tender! You're kind! You're protective! Even at the cost of your own safety, you remain so. Please show me what to make of it, because I can't simply think of you as my foe anymore after all this."

"You will have to, Vaarsuvius." Redcloak sighed, staring at the ground, away from the elf. "This is complicated."

"I have a distinct feeling that we shall make it more complicated before this is done." Vaarsuvius's voice lowered, a gentle, warning hiss. "Redcloak, this is dangerous for us both. Physically and emotionally."

"I realize that. I didn't exactly predict this would happen. I'm usually able to deal with prisoners without being a complete monster while not getting… like this." Redcloak tentatively ran a gentle claw through the elf's hair. "I don't get it, but I don't get a lot of things."

"It is only going to be difficult for the both of us." Vaarsuvius looked away, frowning and squirming a little, yet not enough for Redcloak's claws to break the skin unwittingly. "You should stop touching me."

"I need to get you to your room. You can't fool yourself into thinking that you can actually walk up all those steps."

"Do not tell me that this is no more than necessity, Redcloak. Do not insult my intelligence."

"Maybe it's not. We've both done more than what's necessary. Acknowledging it won't make us stop."

"Redcloak…" Vaarsuvius took a deep breath, looking up and slipping into a cleanly dispassionate expression. "This is too intricate. We should stop seeing each other. I am tired of trying to make sense of you. You do not fit in black or white. I doubt that your apparent attachment to me does you any favors as well. You are vulnerable, I am compromised, and we both are crossing inappropriate—"

Redcloak slid his arms around the elf's waist gently and touched their lips together. Vaarsuvius stiffened up against him with a soft gasp, the little elven heartbeat quickening against his chest, but the kiss was returned.

The scientist and the person in Redcloak's head both threw up their hands in defeat. They both loudly proclaimed that he had just screwed up any chance they had of pretending nothing was going on and that they clearly were unappreciated at the moment. They went to the back of his mind and started playing Parcheesi until the two were done making out.

"We should stop…" Vaarsuvius murmured, kissing Redcloak again, wrapping delicate arms around his neck.

"Probably." Redcloak was understandably distracted. Normally, warmth in a body seemed foreign and unnatural. He was so used to goblins and skeletons that he didn't really know what it felt like to really touch someone who didn't need sunlight to give heat. Under any other circumstances, he was positive that he would hate it. Just then it felt… nice.

The heat and fervor increased. Tongues were touching. They both could feel each other's heart beats quickening. The elf's face flushed darkly. Neither could, by any stretch of the imagination, be called 'innocent.' They knew where this was going.

Both pulled away. Neither were ready for that.

"I…" Vaarsuvius shook its head sharply, dissipating the daze. "Please take me back to my room. I must think."

"We both do." Redcloak, had he been able to, would have blushed. Instead, he cleared his throat and picked the elf up gently, taking it out of the room and slowly walking up the stairs.

The scientist and person looked up hopefully from their Parcheesi game. Unwilling to put up with them, Redcloak slammed and locked the door before they could even stand.

Both goblin and elf were silent until they were inside the room. "I promise that I'll do my best to make sure Xykon doesn't do anything like this to you again, okay?" Redcloak gently put the elf down on the bed, looking up at the only window of the room, eye adjusting for the sparse illumination from the Snarl.

"Redcloak…"

"I have a feeling I know where this is going."

Vaarsuvius didn't even react. Perhaps they knew each other too well. "Ignoring this won't help."

"Sometimes it does."

"I am not the sort of person who ignores things and hopes they go away." Vaarsuvius frowned, hugging its knees and staring at Redcloak appraisingly.

"You don't need to say that. I know." Redcloak sat at the foot of the bed, looking down at his claws, a purple sheen dancing on his scales from the window, a small light show within itself, the colors mixing together until there were strands of jade, pink, and blue among the purple and green.

"It makes no sense. We are of different alignments, vastly different species, different view points, different personalities…"

"I know." Redcloak shrugged, making the colors and lights dance. "Articulating it won't make it go away, Vaarsuvius. Talking will only do so much. You need to actually do things."

There was silence, rather rare when around such a verbose and prideful elf.

"Perhaps you are correct."

Redcloak looked up curiously, frowning. Had Vaarsuvius just admitted to being wrong?

The elf crawled up to him, hesitated for a moment, then brought a pale hand up to his cold cheek and kissed him softly. "I cannot believe that I am allowing myself to participate in such gross misconduct."

Quite frankly, neither did Redcloak. The scientist was banging at the door, screaming about how this could only end badly. He didn't bother with it. He did too many things that could only end badly. What was one more? It looked like he was too deep to pull out at any rate. Ignoring it obviously didn't work, he had no intention of cutting himself off from the elf, and if they both wanted this (even if they would die before they admitted it) they might as well.

And, secretly, he could admit that it wasn't mere admiration that he felt for the proud, defiant, beautiful elf. And he could also admit in an even tinier place in his mind that what he felt was certainly not lust, as he sometimes tried to tell himself it was.

He kissed back gently, touching the back of the elf's head and gently bringing it closer. Maybe they would act like nothing happened again once the kiss was over. That was fine with him. Maybe they would be back to whatever they were before tomorrow. That was fine with him. Maybe he was setting his heart up to be hanged. That was fine with him.

Maybe he would eventually kill Vaarsuvius just like Right-Eye.

He tightened his grip a little and kissed harder.


	8. Chapter 8

They didn't say much to each other at first when they woke up. Both were preoccupied with thoughts of the night before, glad that they hadn't gone farther than kissing yet painfully aware of how close they had been. Vaarsuvius showed its embarrassment by simply smoothing down its bloodstained robe and backing into the corner, hugging its knees and scowling at the wall.

Redcloak looked down at his robes, noting that they also were bloody, and sighed before standing up.

"Xykon will attack you again."

Redcloak glanced towards the elf that had come so close to becoming his lover last night. Its eyes were fixed on the wall, the usual low-light vision glow gone with the sun filtering through the small window above. "He is fuming. I do not know what he plans on doing, but last night was not the last of it."

"I know. I still need to handle the troops." Redcloak avoided looking at the elf's eyes. "Just try to stay out of his way for now."

"As if I have any other option. With this prison, the only possible way for our paths to cross is for him to come to me." Vaarsuvius frowned, crossing its arms. "And yet you are much more vulnerable."

"We can keep the vulnerability to a minimum if you do your best to keep away from Xykon or Tsukiko. They're sociopaths and they have fun with other people's pain."

"Why do you care if I suffer at their hands?" Vaarsuvius asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the wall.

"Do you have to keep asking questions like that?"

Vaarsuvius glanced at him for the first time that morning, expression deadpan. "Quite frankly? Yes."

"You're valuable."

Vaarsuvius arched an eyebrow. "Indeed? Most probably because of the excess of information I have gladly provided with minimal prompting."

Redcloak rolled his eye. "I need to go. I'll be back tonight, okay?"

The elf nodded slowly. It glanced back at the wall again, flushing a little, and Redcloak turned to leave.

"Please be careful."

The words were so quiet that Redcloak was still unsure if he had heard them after he closed the door behind him.

---

"Get away, foul hobgoblin scum!"

Durkon jerked awake, trembling slightly and shaking of the remnants of a nightmare. He looked around, noting how all of his comrades were still sleeping. He stood up, brushing himself off, and picked up his hammer, walking slowly to the partially boarded-up window of the abandoned inn to see what was happening outside. It sounded like there was a scuffle of some sort, but it wasn't loud enough to wake anyone but him.

He frowned, wondering if the scuffle was just vestiges of the dream, but he rubbed his eyes, gave his face a little slap, and looked through the window clearly.

A red-haired person, a woman by the looks of it, was fighting three hobgoblins with a bow and arrow at close range. One goblin lunged forward, catching her bow on its sword and swinging it across the street. "Can't you guys _ever_ call us anything besides 'foul scum'? Hasn't anyone heard of originality?!"

Durkon stumbled away from the window, grabbing his armor from the floor. "Ev'rybody up! Ev'rybody up! Grab yer weapons—s'meone's in trouble with s'me hobgoblins! _Don't kill 'em, Belkar! They c'n take us t' tha castle!"_

---

"Are you quite sure about this, Monster-san?" O-Chul leaned against the bars of his cage, frowning absently at the ground. "That the elf survived its ordeal with Xykon?"

"Well, it looked like she wouldn't for a bit there, but Redcloak jumped in and stopped Xykon." The monster shifted in his cramped cardboard prison, the ground groaning underneath him.

"The goblin saved the elf?"

"Oh, her name is Vaarsuvius. I think. Redcloak called her that, anyway." The monster shifted again, his glowing yellow eyes bobbing in the darkness. "I was a little scared that Xykon would kill Redcloak there. That would have been sad. I like Redcloak. But Xykon left the elf and Redcloak alone after they stood up for each other."

"Stood up for each other?" O-Chul frowned in confusion. "That is very odd indeed. Are you sure?"

"Well, when Xykon was about to kill her, Redcloak stood in the way, and when Xykon was beating Redcloak up she got in the way and said… something. I think she was telling him to attack her instead of his friends. Something like that. Then Redcloak made Xykon stop casting spells on her. We left when they were both on the ground."

O-Chul tapped his chin slowly in thought. "Why would the goblin protect the elf? More importantly, why would the elf protect the goblin?"

"Tsukiko thinks that they're in love."

O-Chul choked a little, hiding his smile with his hand. "I doubt it, Monster-san."

"But I really think they are!" The monster bounced slightly in his cage in excitement. "You know, I thought that she was a boy, but then I stayed behind a little even though Tsukiko told me to hurry up and I watched them. They were talking for a while but then they were kissing. It was really cute. Usually, kissing's gross but it looked cute."

O-Chul eyes went wide and his hand dropped to his knee, gaze fixed on the two yellow eyes in the cage.

"Mr. Stiffly?"

"This… is odd and unfortunate news to hear." O-Chul crossed his arms, frowning at the floor. "Either the elf is a traitor, the goblin is more of a monster than I ever imagined, or they both are very, very foolish." He sighed softly. "Or perhaps merely young. In any case, I must find a way to get the elf and myself to safety. Only danger and death lurks within these walls, and, in any way this information can be construed, the elf is in a perilous situation."

---

"Sir! Sir!"

Jirix really hated going against orders. He really, honestly did. Especially when they came from people that could easily obliterate him and bring him back as a zombie to eat brains with a flick of the wrist.

But he had his loyalties.

Redcloak looked up from the maps on his desk, frowning and eye flickering. Jirix usually didn't go into his private study unless asked to or in serious cases. He stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. "Jirix?"

Jirix skidded to a halt, trying to resist the urge to bite his lip nervously. "Sir, Ms. Tsukiko took the elven prisoner down to the dungeons. She told me to not inform you, but I believed that this was your area…"

Redcloak nodded, his eye narrowed. "Thank you for telling me, Jirix. I'll make sure that this is sorted out."

Jirix nodded as he watched his master leave. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about this. Maybe it would have been best if he had let the crazy necromancer kill his master's lover—it would be much safer for the Supreme Leader to lose that vulnerability. But he of all people knew that sometimes the vulnerabilities are all that hold up the strengths.

---

Vaarsuvius reaffirmed its prior conclusion that it seriously did not like the necromancer woman. At all.

"I love this! It's like eating forbidden fruit or something!" Tsukiko licked her lips, giggling and letting her mismatched eyes flash out of time with each other, completely out of sync. Zombified humans held the elf against the wall, and Vaarsuvius was too disgusted to try to resist. The zombies were from the sacking of Azure City—all scarred with stab and burn wounds, their flesh peeling off to reveal rotting muscles and organs within. That wasn't even the worst of it. Bits of hair hanging off incomplete heads, stringy, bits of bodies missing, maggots wriggling within the decaying tissue, eyeballs either hanging out, eaten through with worms, or completely gone, leaving just yawning holes where they used to be…

More people that had died because Vaarsuvius had failed in keeping the hobgoblins back. More people to appear in the nightmares.

"Hey! Pay attention when I'm talking!"

Tsukiko scowled and gave the elf a sharp slap. Vaarsuvius immediately looked back up, glaring.

"What do you plan on doing? You have no need for information. I have already been tortured."

"I'm booooooooooored," Tsukiko whined, "and it's so much fun to get Reddy angry! I think there's something about a family member of his that I could use, but no one will tell me which one and what happened."

"Dare I ask how old you are? I fear that, if you are immature enough to act in this way, you are far too young to be dealing with magic."

"Cheeky, for a prisoner." Tsukiko shrugged, grinning. "You know, that'll get you in trouble."

She waved her hand, whistling a few notes, and one of the zombies staggered forward, punching Vaarsuvius hard in the stomach. The elf clenched up, struggling to breathe for a moment, but not a sound escaped.

"Awww, don't be like that. It's no fun to play with people who won't scream." Tsukiko cocked her head, smiling in a very odd way. "You know, if you clean up your hair a little and wear something a little nicer and form-fitting…"

"Are you truly about to go on about aesthetics now?"

"Yep." Tsukiko tapped her chin, frowning and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I dunno. Elves are always so attractive, but I prefer it when they're dead."

Vaarsuvius's eyes widened slightly, instinctively trying to draw away.

"It's… sexier. All cold. No heartbeat. And you know that the beauty is frozen there, and that it'll soon rot away, so it's all yours for that moment and no one else will be able to enjoy it, to take it from you."

"You are a very sick woman."

"That's what everyone says." Tsukiko glanced down at Vaarsuvius, still smiling. "You know those 'Unnatural Acts of Wizardry' I was jailed for? Basically, it was all just a bunch of close-minded windbags who couldn't leave me well-enough alone. I was just having some fun with my zombies. Is that so wrong?"

Vaarsuvius paled a little, suddenly extremely afraid of the woman in front of it. The elf futilely tried to pull out of the zombies' grasp, not letting its eyes stray from Tsukiko.

"Aw, now you're getting all nervous." Tsukiko looked down, still smiling, and fumbled with her belt, pulling out a plain-looking dagger with a skull etching on the hilt. "I don't get what Reddy sees in you. I always thought he'd be into girls like him—quiet, deceitful, street-smart… but I guess you're just as secretive."

Vaarsuvius scowled. "You act as though you know me yet I have only seen you three times—once in battle, once when you were a mere bystander, and now."

Tsukiko shrugged, twirling the dagger in her hand. "Everyone thinks I'm a ditz. I bet you don't have that problem, do you? What they don't know is that I know people. I can tell things. You're arrogant and prissy. Reddy still sleeps with you. Usually, I could write that off as you just being easy." Vaarsuvius looked deeply offended. "But he stood up to Xykon for you, so there's gotta be something there."

"We are not having relations with each other."

"Sure you're not." Tsukiko laughed softly. "I don't like it when prisoners fire off insults and stuff. I think that I'll fix you. It'll get cold sometimes and it'll be hard keeping the bugs out of you, but I'm sure you'll manage. I'll even give you to someone for embalmment—it's easier to work and move around when your body isn't rotting."

Vaarsuvius set its mouth in a grim line.

"But first, I think I'd like to see you without that tatty robe on. I'm still not quite sure you're a girl."

The elf tried to squirm in the zombies' grips, eyes fixed on the approaching woman. "If you touch me, I will not hesitate in sending you to oblivion."

The woman's mismatched eyes sparkled. Vaarsuvius could tell easily that she enjoyed the defiance, but the elf could not let that rebellion go. As stupid as it was to provoke the woman's interest in any way, the elf couldn't let go of its pride. "I'll do more than touch, probably. I'm open." Tsukiko spun the knife again, pulling at the faded string belt around the elf's thin waist and getting ready to cut it.

A hand snatched Tsukiko's wrist roughly and jerked it up, eliciting a cry, and squeezed it hard enough for the human hand to swell and redden and the dagger to fall to the floor with a clatter. Once more, the hand to save Vaarsuvius was green and scaly.

"That's more than enough, Tsukiko."

Redcloak's eye was one narrow fleck of gold and his claws dug deep into the necromancer's flesh, staining the pale skin scarlet. Tsukiko squirmed, glaring fiercely. At the presence of their mistress's superior, the corpses robotically let Vaarsuvius go.

The elf braced itself against the wall, frowning darkly and keeping its arms crossed across its chest as if that alone would protect it from what had almost happened.

"You can let me go now, Reddy."

Redcloak shoved her away and released his grip on her, making sure to drag his claws into her skin as deeply as possible. "Tsukiko, there's a reason that I let Xykon push me around—he can obliterate me completely. He's more powerful than the both of us combined and infinitely crueler. It'd be stupid of me to try to pick a fight." He brandished his bloody claws, eye still narrow. "You don't have that power." He clenched his fist, letting the faint light from the torches on the stone walls make the blood and scales glisten. "You've been alive for a little over twenty years. I've been alive for half a century, now. I'm still as young as the day I took on my duty to the Dark One and I retain all the power I've earned since then. _Our levels don't compare._ Don't try to get me angry again."

He pointed to the door. "Get out now before I decide to provide a demonstration."

Tsukiko glared, but she obviously more than understood the point he was making. After a brief hesitation, she backed off and gestured for the corpses to leave. "You know what we're going to do once we find that phylactery? Xykon's going to make you kill all the prisoners." She glanced at Vaarsuvius. "I wouldn't get too cozy."

She stalked out, nursing her bloody arm, and slammed the door behind her. Her zombies went after her, shambling quietly without complaint.

Redcloak wiped the blood off his hands, glancing over at Vaarsuvius and looking it up and down. "Did she hurt you?"

"Not terribly." Vaarsuvius stood up, knees trembling slightly, trying to convince the elf that they were not ready for walking. They were ignored.

"You were baiting her, Vaarsuvius."

"It was hardly my fault that she took me out of my room."

Redcloak tapped his clawed against his scales, his back to the elf. "I heard both of you talking while I was going down the stairs. You're not stupid. You knew that defiance would only fire her up."

"Well excuse me for refusing to remain silent."

Redcloak scowled at the floor. "Vaarsuvius, you can be defiant with me. I'm not going to deny that I will hurt you, but I'm not like her. She sees you as a toy that she's not supposed to play with. You make it fun for her with rebellion, and that just encourages her to go to greater lengths to break you."

"Redcloak, I won't allow anyone to do what they wish with me without making my opinions known, no matter how unwise it is."

"She would have raped, killed, and zombified you, and not necessarily in that order. Pride shouldn't be a factor."

Vaarsuvius crossed its arms, glaring at Redcloak's back. "I refuse to abandon my dignity, Redcloak. Even in the face of those who hold power over me."

"You're a fool, then."

"A fool, perhaps. But a fool with principles. Principles you seem to lack."

Redcloak made a violent dismissive motion with his hand, claws catching the light and gleaming. "I serve a greater cause. If I die, that cause has been set back. Principles? Pride? They're nice enough when they're not dangerous. They're dangerous for us when we're around those who can and will annihilate us if we rub them the wrong way. You happen to be around a lot of people like that."

"I do my best to avoid causes," Vaarsuvius said dryly. "What I have to live for are the people I care about and myself."

"Neutral, then."

"Yes. Very."

"You won't be very effective in helping your party stop us if you die." Redcloak turned around, glaring, and his claws instinctively sharpened on his scales. Vaarsuvius inwardly wondered if that was a goblin's equivalent to clenched fists. "Knock off the defiance with Xykon and Tsukiko. They're just looking for an excuse to kill you."

"Your suggestion has been noted and ignored."

Redcloak looked upward as if the Dark One himself would swoop down and help him make the elf see sense. "Damn it, Vaarsuvius."

"You know that they all believe that we have been having relations. I suppose that is only natural, considering the circumstances, but I still find it rather offensive that they would assume that."

"I don't care who they think I'm sleeping with. Let them gossip all they want." Redcloak gripped the elf's arms tightly. "Listen to me: you're not a big powerful wizard right now. _You have no way to prepare spells._ You're an elf without any skill points in anything that could possibly be useful to you in this situation. You're nothing but a tiny bundle of flesh and bone who couldn't even take down a single soldier in hand-to-hand combat. On top of that, you have an epic-level sorcerer lich really, _really_ angry with you for losing his phylactery. I'm the only thing that's keeping you from being thrown into the Snarl, and incase you haven't noticed, Xykon isn't all too happy with me either. You can't afford to be rebellious."

Vaarsuvius tilted its head upward, mouth set and eyes burning brightly, savage elven beauty ripping its way straight to Redcloak's heart. "I won't remain quiet, Redcloak. It is unwise. It is downright foolish. But I won't."

In one swift movement, Redcloak slapped the elf across the face, claws dragging into the flesh. "Will you listen to me _for once?!_" Vaarsuvius looked back up, glaring, blood oozing from the slices in its cheek. "Lose the hard head and face what is happening: Tsukiko is going to come back for you. So will Xykon. If you get Tsukiko interested enough, she will rape you. If you get Xykon angry enough, he'll force me to kill you. _Is that clear?!_"

"You shouldn't care! What would my violation by a sociopath of a woman do to you?! What would your killing of me do besides deprive you of a dry source of information?! _You should not care about it!_"

"Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I don't." Redcloak's eye flicked up at the deep scratches on the elf's face, letting his hand drift up to touch them lightly. Vaarsuvius stifled a small wince and tried to pull back.

"Redcloak, don't heal the cuts you gave me wantonly."

"Cure Minor Wounds."

The slices sewed together, leaving no trace of their presence besides blood. Vaarsuvius pursed its lips and looked to the wall. "Just because you heal them does not mean that they were never there and you did not inflict them."

"I never pretended that it did." Redcloak sighed, shaking his head. "Even when I'm your jailer, I still can't get you to do anything. Can't imagine what it's like for your friends." He gently picked the elf up. "You should go back to your room."

The elf pursed its lips tightly, looking away. "You shouldn't care."

"At a certain point, I wonder if that's all you can say."

Vaarsuvius scowled, tracing the area where the slashes used to be. "You call me stubborn, yet you are the most stubborn of both of us."

"Is that so?" Redcloak pushed the door open, shivering a little at the cold, and started climbing the stairs.

"You work to advance your cause, correct?" Vaarsuvius glared, the faintest trace of anger and disdain in its eyes. "From what little I know of it, would I be correct in saying that you intend for goblins to have equal social standing in the world to humanoids?"

"In a nutshell, that would be right." Redcloak pulled the gold ring at the door, slipping inside and making sure that the door closed behind them.

"Xykon obviously does not care for goblin welfare."

"I'm well-aware of that."

"And if the world is unmade by the Snarl, the issue is a moot point."

"I'm also well-aware of that. To a certain point."

"So you suffer his abuse for nothing."

"I wouldn't put it that way." Redcloak gently put the elf down on the bed, sitting beside it. "He's not a nice person. I never pretended he was. But he's willing to work together as long as it's entertaining and he's useful for the cause, even if it doesn't look like it from your point of view."

"Redcloak, he forced you to lose your eye permanently."

Redcloak was silent for a moment. That was the first time the elf had acknowledged it. Vaarsuvius faced him, fingers twitching a little in its lap, and hesitated for a brief moment before reaching forward and brushing the bandage with its hand, hard gaze softening. "You have turned yourself into a martyr for this cause of yours and I can't see how Xykon can help you. Through him, goblins will find only the ruling tyrannical class of the world or an even lesser social station than they already have. Perhaps rule over others is what you want, but less lives, both goblin and not, can be lost by way of simple diplomacy."

Redcloak was tempted to hold the soft warm hand against his face. It lacked the toughness of scales and the chill of cold blood—foreign yet comforting. He resisted the urge, but he subconsciously leaned into the touch. "You think that diplomacy will work with goblins?" Bitterness coated his words and he had to stop himself from spitting in disgust. "It's been tried."

"I do not doubt that fact, but attacking entire cities and overrunning innocent citizens will hardly endear you to anyone…"

"Don't talk to me about attacking innocents." Redcloak jerked away, anger flaring in one fiery gold eye.

Vaarsuvius's muscles tightened slightly and its eyes narrowed. "You do not need to be so quarrelsome."

Redcloak tensed noticeably, scales flashing in the dim light from the Snarl. Vaarsuvius immediately saw the difference, ears twitching slightly in an equally instinctive response and head lowering a little, unsure of how to proceed. "You know what the human Azure City paladins your kind seems to be so fond of did?" Redcloak's eye narrowed. "A long time ago, there was a goblin settlement in the mountains. It was a peaceful one—mostly civilians who just went about their business and did their best to live alongside the humans. Those paladins came and completely slaughtered everyone there. Men, women, children, everyone." His eye glowed with Darkvision, his expression getting increasingly menacing. "My family lived there. Out of all of them, only my little brother and my niece survived. My brother is dead and I haven't been able to see my niece since. I don't even know if she is alive."

Vaarsuvius was very, very quiet.

"Try using diplomacy against that." Redcloak looked away bitterly, glaring at the floor.

Silence. Redcloak didn't know why he had burst out at the elf. He didn't know why he was telling anyone about all that. It had happened a long time ago. He thought that he had put it behind him.

But he hadn't. He knew that in his heart. He hadn't put it behind him and he had a feeling that Vaarsuvius was just like him—trapped in the events of the past and unable to drag itself out without a helping hand.

The elf shifted, obviously in uncertain territory. It gently rested a hand on top of Redcloak's after a moment, an awkward yet sincere gesture coming from someone who Redcloak knew wasn't well-versed with social situations. "I am sorry. I cannot imagine having my family taken from me in such a way."

"An eye is not a big price to pay to make sure that that never happens again to my people. When I became the high cleric of the Dark One, I made a vow to look out for the welfare of all goblinkind. People may disagree with my methods, but I do what I think is best." Redcloak shook his head slowly. "I have lost a lot for this. I'm not going to falter because of Xykon."

There was another long silence.

"I…"

Redcloak couldn't help but be darkly amused that he had left such a verbose elf speechless.

"I understand."

Such a simple statement. Uncharacteristically vague. Was Vaarsuvius saying that it understood his motivations? His willingness to put up with abuse? His behavior around the elf? Or just the simple event that had occurred so long ago?

"It's clear now. Why you are so bitter." Vaarsuvius crossed its arms in its lap. "You hate me for being an elf, don't you? That my species has the Gods' favor and is privileged in this world. That I most likely will never have to suffer the complete destruction of my village because a self-righteous group decided that my people were little more than walking Experience Points." Vaarsuvius glanced at the wall, a faint frown on its face. "I believe… I believe that in your place, I would hate me too."

Redcloak was quiet for a moment. "Hate is a strong word. But yes. I'd be a liar if I denied being bitter." He traced the elf's face with his gaze. It was still slender and elegant, but much healthier than it used to be. He reached out, gently running his finger along the delicate features. The elf shivered, leaning into the touch after a tentative pause. "You make me confused, Vaarsuvius. I suppose I don't have to say that. It's obvious. I think I confuse you too."

"Redcloak, we are venturing into dangerous territory."

"We ventured into it a long time ago, Vaarsuvius." Redcloak drew his hand away, cocking his head and eye narrowing in a thoughtful manner. "Why do you do this to me? You're a smart elf, you should know—why is it that I can safely keep from being a monster to every prisoner without developing this save for one?"

"I have found that I know much less about matters of the heart than I thought. And I know even less of what would be the best course of action to take in situations such as this. I suppose I will do what I think I should." The elf looked up, putting a warm hand on Redcloak's arm.

Vaarsuvius leaned forward and kissed him softly. Something in him jumped in surprise, the majority of him having expected this, but he was glad for the contact. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed him. It had been a while since he had acknowledged the losses that ran much deeper than his eye. He had lost his family. He had taken his little brother's life, the one person he should have always protected above all else. Maybe he would be forced to kill other people he cared about—maybe a loyal follower, a friend, his niece (Dark One forbid the unlikely yet terrifying possibility), even, though he was tentative to admit how much it mattered to him, Vaarsuvius. He was a vessel, nothing but a martyr for a cause that would forever label him as 'evil' to everyone but goblins. His life as a goblin had ended when he was only a teenager, and after that, he was just a crusader. A teenager… he was a kid.

The smart thing to do would have been to push the elf away. They had come dangerously close to the ultimate line last night.

Redcloak was sick of doing the smart thing.

He gently wrapped his arms around the elf's thin waist, pulling it up against his body, and returned the kiss. Vaarsuvius lacked the slight rigidity that had been there the night before. Its posture and muscles were relaxed, the quick heartbeat so hard that Redcloak could feel it in his own chest. Was it a sign of trust? Pity? He wasn't sure. But he highly doubted that Vaarsuvius would do anything like this out of anything but wanting to. The elf wasn't the type to try to please or comfort with its body—the mere thought being tacked to Vaarsuvius made him want to laugh at the utter ridiculousness. No. The proud elf in his arms would never let any man or woman touch it without it wanting them to.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Vaarsuvius wrapped its arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. "We are making a mistake, but I find that I do not care anymore."

Redcloak found that he didn't care either.

A/N

Special thanks to the people of the Crack Pairing thread who gave me edits, specifically Thor Person Guy, Thor Person Guy, TheBibliophile, Discord, and Kaytara. Thanks, guys!


	9. Chapter 9

Redcloak never knew how deliciously, wonderfully _warm_ something could be. He never thought that warmth could make him feel this way, but it was like he was completely wrapped in sunlight. He had thought that one could only feel that under the influence of drugs, but it felt so clear without them. He would have been happy if he had been able to curl up against the warmth for the rest of his life, his heart beating in time to another's, hard hands resting on smooth, soft, _warm_ skin.

He suddenly understood why mammals loved this sort of thing so much.

He also suddenly understood why everyone always prescribed the surly, young or old, male or female, good or evil mammals this treatment to lighten their spirits. It was impossible to be in a bad mood with that light feeling in his stomach, even with the fact that he had probably made one of the greatest blunders in his life.

"Redcloak?"

He looked down at the pale face of the elf—his lover, he supposed—looking up at him, violet eyes glowing with calmness and contentment that he didn't remember ever seeing there before. He supposed that the light feeling was affecting Vaarsuvius as well.

"Yeah?"

"You are smiling."

Redcloak nodded slowly. "I am."

The elf closed its eyes, allowing it to rest its forehead against the goblin's scaled chest in a rare moment without any defenses. Vaarsuvius looked so vulnerable. The tiny elven body was completely bare, pale skin reflecting the light dimly, and the gentle breathing was so quiet and relaxed that one wouldn't have guessed that they were enemies. Redcloak felt inexplicably touched by the fact that the elf was allowing this blatant vulnerability show, even if it only lasted this morning, because he knew if nothing else that Vaarsuvius was not one to do that lightly.

"Did we make a mistake last night?"

The question was soft. Honest. Curious.

"Probably."

Vaarsuvius sighed softly. "I dislike being confused, Redcloak." The elf gently started tracing the goblin's scales.

"I'm not too fond of it either. Just incase you didn't notice." Redcloak leaned back a little, feeling the elven heartbeat gently pumping against his chest.

"Redcloak…"

Redcloak cocked his head when the elf trailed off, hands resting at the small of a pale back, careful to keep their claws from scratching any skin. "What are you going to ask?"

"I… nothing." Vaarsuvius continued tracing the scales, frowning faintly. "I am thinking too hard."

"That's a tendency we share." He sat up, tempted to kiss the elf, but he resisted the urge. "I need to attend to my duties."

"Redcloak, you're vulnerable. Xykon is furious with you, as is Tsukiko. Now that this has happened, I can be used as a tool against you. You need to do something to protect yourself…"

"You were always a tool that could be used against me, Vaarsuvius. They don't know that anything's different." Redcloak reluctantly pulled away from the warmth, standing up and picking his clothes off the floor. "I have things I need to do."

"If Tsukiko targeted me yesterday, then she will target you. You hurt her pride."

"It doesn't change the fact that I'm several levels higher than she is. I'll be safe." He looked back at Vaarsuvius. "You can help me by doing your best to keep a low profile. That's easy. It's not like you can leave this room. And if Xykon or Tsukiko get you, try to find a way to get into Jirix's or another hobgoblin's sight. They're loyal to me. They'll find me and tell me what is happening." Redcloak put his clothes on slowly.

"Are you going to be careful around Xykon?"

"I'm no more interested in getting beaten up than you are." Redcloak did the clasp of his cloak. "You don't need to worry."

Vaarsuvius tilted its head to the side, sinking back into the bed slowly. "I do not know what to make of recent events."

"Don't try to make sense of them. Just keep going." Redcloak picked up the elf's robe from the floor, folding it neatly before putting it on the ground again. "I suggest getting dressed soon. Someone will be here with food."

Vaarsuvius nodded absently.

"I promise that I'll be back tonight."

The elf nodded, glanced up, and gave a small smile. Redcloak smiled a little in response and left, resisting the urge to touch Vaarsuvius again the whole way.

---

"Sir, the Resistance, the elven party, and the adventurers all apparently are teaming up."

"Like we didn't see that coming." Redcloak leaned on his desk, crossing his arms and staring at the floor. "How do we know this?"

"Our soldiers saw them talking. They're working together to dispel the illusions."

"How many spell casters are there?"

Jirix shifted nervously. "Two in the elven party alone. None in the adventurer's party. We don't know about the resistance."

"Have we made any progress on the phylactery?" Redcloak tapped his claws against his arm, making a tiny 'ting' sound.

"We've searched through the plant. We haven't found it."

"Double our efforts. Sweep through the labyrinth and then check the sewers and plant again." Redcloak frowned, lacing his fingers together. "Let's hope that we'll find it. The only alternative is the ocean."

"Yes sir."

"And work on the illusions. Adventurers have an annoying tendency to destroy spells, but we have to keep it up as long as possible."

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

Jirix quickly left, frowning nervously. Redcloak turned away from his desk and the door, facing a great window overlooking the destroyed city. Streams of orange weaved through the streets, gleams and flashes of iron showing up in the pale purple light. He started mapping out strategies in his mind, face frozen in a thoughtful frown, and glared through the window.

"Looks like you have a lot on your mind."

Redcloak glanced back at the door, eye narrowing. "Tsukiko, don't you have someone else to bother?"

Tsukiko smirked, but her eyes were narrowed warily and her stance was instinctively guarded, an unconscious signal that the lesson Redcloak had taught the night before was still fresh in her mind. He took private satisfaction in that and looked back at the window. "Go and play with the slaves. They've been rebelling a lot lately."

"You're a cold-hearted phony, you know that?"

Redcloak glanced back at her, arching an eye ridge. She was still smirking but the guarded posture was still there. She shrugged, faking nonchalance, and sauntered across the room towards him. Her eyes weren't glowing. She wasn't planning on attacking him with a spell. Maybe she was going to try psychological attacks? That seemed to be her specialty outside of magic. "Oh really?"

"Well, I guess you do know that." Tsukiko crossed her arms and leaned back a little on her feet, apparently feeling safe enough to be close. "You like fooling yourself, but not about something as small as that."

"Can you get to the point? I'm trying to figure out what to do with the troops. Or you can just leave me alone." Redcloak looked back at the window. "That would work too."

"You act nice to her and you're going to kill her."

"Am I right to assume that you're talking about Vaarsuvius again?" Redcloak looked back, expression deadpan. "Tsukiko, it gets hard to get under someone's skin when they really don't care what you think. Is that all you wanted to say?"

Tsukiko scowled darkly, muscles tensing a little in irritation, but she quickly tried to fake nonchalance again. "What does she do to make you help her so much? Is she that good in bed or have you just gone so long without a woman that anyone is good enough?"

"I'm waiting for the part where you actually get to me or leave."

"Why an elf?"

Redcloak frowned. "What?"

"You say you hate all 'powerful' races. That includes elves. Why sleep with one and go against your principles?"

Redcloak looked back out of the window. "I work with you and Xykon, don't I?"

"The elf's different." Tsukiko advanced slowly. "You know, Xykon's going to make you kill her. What're you going to say when you do it?"

"I tend to not think about that. You can go now, Tsukiko."

"Will you like doing it, Reddy? You act like you're all high and mighty—better than me and Xykon because we're open about enjoying the pain of others. But I see you when you look down at all those human slaves."

Redcloak glanced at Tsukiko, expression unreadable.

"You love it. You love that the goblins are the ones on top for once. You love that you finally made an entire city of humans suffer. You're addicted to that high you get when you see it. You're going to keep working on your big Plan until you can't even pretend it's for goblins anymore—it's for your own bitterness and hatred." Tsukiko smirked. A real smirk this time. "You know I'm right. Maybe you think you're neutral with the elf. Maybe you even think you like her. But I know you. You hate anything with warm blood in its veins and a mind capable of thinking beyond where the next meal will come from. So you'll have your fun. When Xykon tells you to gut her like a fish, you won't put up a big fuss. You'll do it. She won't believe that you will, but you will. You'll like it. Maybe she'll say something to you. Call you a monster. Ask why you would be so callous." Tsukiko danced back, eyes gleaming with her own vision of what was to come. "You'll answer her questions. Once she's dead on the ground and her blood's drained, you'll zombify her like everyone else. You'll send her off to me to be set to work. You'll change out of your bloody clothes. You'll go on without another thought for it like the cold goblin you are."

Redcloak's face was impossible to decipher, the only hint to his thoughts being the slight narrowing of his eye.

"Maybe it would be different if she had been a goblin. But she's not. She's an elf. You'd never be able to get over that." Tsukiko cocked her head, smirking. "You're just stringing her along. You should've just let me kill her and put her out of her misery. Or maybe you shouldn't have. I'm sure that it'll be fun to see her eyes when you kill her. Make sure to describe them to me." She turned and trotted out.

Redcloak stared after her for a moment, then turned his head to look out the window again.

---

"Tell me—do you believe that I am being foolish?" Vaarsuvius held the blankets close, trying to retain heat in the drafty room. Blackwing hopped on to the elf's knees, stretching his neck out and nipping the tip of a pointy ear, eliciting a surprised wince and yelp.

"Of _course_ I do!" Blackwing hopped from one knee to the other, fluffing up his feathers to make himself look bigger. "You've just had sex with your goblin-high-priest-of-an-evil-god jailer! Who's probably going to kill you! That and you're still technically married, though I'm not sure if it's really valid anymore..."

Vaarsuvius scowled, rubbing the bitten ear. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."

"No, I don't think it would've." The raven shifted his weight, scowling in a way only a bird could. "You're smart, Vaarsuvius. You know that this is a really, really dangerous road to go down. As in, dark-alleyway-with-no-streetlights-in-dodgy-orc-gang-territory dangerous. There's a reason he's the bad guy."

"I'm well-aware of that." Vaarsuvius smoothed tattered robes carefully. "I have tried to keep this from happening, believe me."

"You seemed pretty eager last night."

"I was going against the tide." The elf frowned at the stone wall. "Stockholm Syndrome, presumably. I didn't realize it in time to keep from its effects."

"Vaarsuvius, _you just slept with Xykon's right-hand man!_" Blackwing threw his wings up. "Besides the usual 'the protection spell could have failed and you could end up with a disease or…" Blackwing paused, staring at Vaarsuvius, "or possibly get pregnant depending on your gender' issue, you've just betrayed the Order, made this fight hugely complicated for yourself and opened up for a maniac to hurt and manipulate you."

"My intention was never to betray my friends, and as long as my performance is not hindered, I do not see how this could affect them." Vaarsuvius looked at the wall. "And I am not manipulated by him, Blackwing. My decisions have always been mine." Vaarsuvius's eyes closed and the thin chest expanded with a deep breath. "Redcloak is difficult for me to understand. He is difficult for me to read. He is determined, calculating, secretive, intelligent, and set in his opinions. That is a part of what little I know of him. What I also know is that he is not a monster." Vaarsuvius looked down at a pale hand, gaze contemplative. "He… I won't say that he has never hurt me. He has. I have struck him as well. But he has been… tenderer than he needed to be. Kinder. Gentler. He treats me as a person even when I am being stubborn and uncooperative." The elf sighed. "He is not a monster. I cannot imagine him manipulating anyone for their body."

"You know, getting this attached to your enemy is usually considered a bad tactical move."

"It is. I do not know what to make of him, Blackwing, but I do know that I have…" Vaarsuvius ran a hand through purple hair. "I have feelings. I do not know what to label them as. They are not entirely negative, but not entirely positive. I am unused to attempting to articulate these things."

"I'm your familiar. Empathetic bond, remember? I get it." Blackwing started hopping back and forth again. "This is bad news, Vaarsuvius. Would you be able to strike him down if you were fighting?"

"Of course." The elf glanced at the bird and frowned. "I will not allow any feelings I have for him to inhibit my ability to fight for the world. I am a fool for allowing it to get this far, but I am not such a fool that I would allow the entire planet to suffer from my mistakes."

"And should I assume that you're probably going to sleep with him again?"

Vaarsuvius shrugged simply. "I have already dug my grave, so to speak. Being with him again will hardly make it deeper."

"Should I remind you who he is? What he does? If you don't want to bother with any of that, should I remind you that he cuts you? Most people consider that an abusive relationship."

"Had I my spells, I would probably strike back with extra force." The elf absently stroked the raven's wing. "Despite how the jailer/prisoner, medic/patient dynamic usually works, it does not feel as though he has power over me. He rarely acts that way."

"I've just given you all the reasons that this is a bad idea and you've either justified it, waved it off, or flat-out said you didn't care."

A slight smile played across Vaarsuvius's face. "You are my common sense, apparently. Did you not realize that I chose to disregard that a while ago?"

"This is going to end with your heart broken at best, you dead at worst."

"I know."

The raven held out his wings in an exasperated gesture.

"Then I'll stick with you to make sure that you don't screw up too badly."

Vaarsuvius smiled, leaning back and staying quiet for a moment. "Thank you."

Blackwing hopped on to the elf's shoulder, nipping the tip of a pointy ear affectionately.

"Don't mention it."


	10. Chapter 10

Lips were hot against each other. Fingers trailed down bodies, almost as if their owners were certain that their time together grew short. Bare skin was pressed against scales. Temperature was rising for one, moist heat building deep within until it was in such a concentration that it had to be expelled.

Release for both happened at the same time. Instinctively, the two bodies pressed up against each other, chemicals running through their veins making them yearn for closeness. Both breathed heavily. Both needed to wait for a few minutes until they could think properly again.

Vaarsuvius looked up, arms wrapped firmly around Redcloak's neck, and kissed the goblin softly before letting a slightly sweaty forehead rest against fogged green scales.

Redcloak closed his eye, keeping the delicate elf pressed against him, lightly playing his claws across pale skin while being careful not to cut it.

The elf shivered gently and drew the blanket tighter around them, looking up and trying to make eye contact. "Redcloak?"

The goblin dipped his head, keeping his eye closed.

"Are you well?"

Redcloak opened his eye and looked down at Vaarsuvius, gaze clouded with thought. "Why do you ask?"

"I am able to read you better than you think, Redcloak. You have been troubled for the past few days."

Redcloak looked at the wall and ran a hand through the elf's hair. "You know me well."

"I like to think that that is a prerequisite for having physical relations with me," Vaarsuvius said dryly, running thin fingers over the goblin's scales. "You are upset. I would like to know why."

"Why do you care about it?"

Vaarsuvius scowled.

"It doesn't matter." Redcloak kept his eye on the wall, placing his hands lightly on the small of the elf's back.

"Redcloak…"

"There are some things in my head that I doubt you'll ever want to know about." Redcloak looked down, expression difficult to decipher. "Let it go."

"I do not wish to simply 'let it go,' Redcloak. There is something wrong."

The goblin stared hard at the elf. Vaarsuvius didn't waver.

Redcloak leaned down and brushed his lips against the elf's softly. "You confuse me, Vaarsuvius. I've never liked being confused."

"I am not fond of it either." Vaarsuvius kissed back, trying to feel out what may be the source of the goblin's distance. "I seem to remember that you were the one who told me to not concern myself with confusion."

"I was." Redcloak pulled away, still staring at the elf's face hard, and slowly, he raised his hand and lightly touched a pale cheek. "Do you care about the dangers of this?"

Vaarsuvius's head cocked slightly, a slight frown coming over a pale face. "It wouldn't matter if I did, Redcloak. We are involved in this and I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to."

Redcloak was quiet.

"Redcloak, what is wrong?"

He cocked his head, still staring, and his touch on the elf's face became firmer. "I don't want to hurt you."

Vaarsuvius's confusion was written all over a pale face, but the elf hesitantly touched the goblin's hand instead of drawing away, knowing Redcloak well enough to realize that something had prompted this and it hadn't come out of the blue. "You don't have to yet."

"I don't. But I will."

"I suggest facing that when you must." Vaarsuvius gave another soft kiss. "Good night."

"Good night, Vaarsuvius."

The elf had a feeling that it would be Redcloak who would have the trouble sleeping that night. Vaarsuvius rested a pale face against the goblin's neck, offering what comfort that could be given, and slipped into a trance.

---

Jirix stared dumbly out over the city, listening and yet not believing what his subordinate was saying.

"…Come again?"

The hobgoblin soldier only repeated himself patiently. "Sir, the illusion spells have crumbled. The Resistance is cutting through the castle's southern defenses. The slaves have overthrown the hobgoblin slavers and stolen their weaponry and are fighting at our western defenses. The elven party is overcoming our northern defenses. The adventurer party has split apart and started annihilating our eastern defenses. They're making a path to the castle. We think that they mean to get the prisoners. The enemy is outnumbered and outgunned, but we are out-leveled. They won't be able to take back the castle, but they will be able to infiltrate it and take out a lot of troops."

"By the Dark One… go and organize the troops until the Supreme Leader gets there! I need to tell him!"

---

"What?!"

"We need to act now, sir!"

Redcloak and Tsukiko both exchanged glances while Jirix wrung his hands nervously and Xykon leaned against the wall thoughtfully.

"Tsukiko, try to cover the south-west. There are only big groups working through that territory, so you don't have a big chance of running into a PC or a high-level NPC. You should be able to hold it up." Redcloak was already thinking up any tactics that could possibly be used, gold eye clouded in deep thought.

"I'm on it." Tsukiko was gone immediately.

"Jirix, get our best mages and clerics to start pooling all their power in stopping the adventurer's party and the elves. They're the biggest threat. I'll go and—"

"Not so fast, Reddy. I need you to do something."

Redcloak and Jirix looked up in confusion when Xykon straightened, starting to rummage in his robe. "I'm sure I put it in here somewhere… ah!"

He pulled out a dagger and tossed it towards Redcloak. The goblin flinched back but caught it out of the air.

"I was hoping that your hand would get skewered. Oh well."

Redcloak frowned darkly, making a quick gesture with his hand. "Jirix, go do what I said and tell everyone that I'll be there in a moment. I apparently need to deal with something else first."

Jirix nodded and zipped from the room.

Redcloak looked down at the dagger, frowning at the silver handle with skulls carved in. "Xykon, what's this about? We need to deal with this!"

"The adventurers are only here for your 'source of information' and your bitch, and I happen to be spiteful, so I want to make sure they don't get what they want." Xykon waved his hand. "I want those prisoners gutted like Christmas turkeys. Now."

"Excuse me?" Redcloak looked up, heart beginning to race, eye wide.

"Do I need to spell it out for you? Kill the paladin and the elf. Like, _real_ kill. No sissy not-recovering-any-body type of kill, because we all know that the heroes always survive those things. And bind their souls somewhere. Don't want them being revived."

"Sir, I—!"

"Did I stutter, Reddy?"

Redcloak stared, his mouth opened slightly.

"We wouldn't want a certain death to be worth nothing, do we?"

Xykon might as well had drawn the knife on Redcloak himself. The goblin flinched back, eye closing and head bowing as though he had been struck.

"Remember where your loyalty lies, bitch."

Redcloak stared up at Xykon, expression frozen in a combination of pain and surprise, showing far more than the goblin wanted. "…"

"Nice that we understand each other. Gut the little corksuckers. And no handing off the dirty work to soldiers—that'd take the fun out of it."

Xykon smirked and floated up into the air. "Now I need to go blast some PCs." He flew out of the window with a loud crackling coming from his phalanges, concentrations of dark energy growing there.

Redcloak looked down and stared at the dagger.

The scientist and the person within stared with him.

He had killed his brother for this. Right-Eye. Right-Eye was dead. His baby brother. He had killed his baby brother for Xykon's sake. If he didn't kill Vaarsuvius, wasn't that somehow an insult to Right-Eye's memory? Why was an elf he was sleeping with somehow more important than his little brother? If he had killed his brother, then Vaarsuvius shouldn't be a problem. And besides, the elf could provide information for the adventurers. It was only logical to kill it, the scientist said.

He shouldn't call Vaarsuvius an 'it'! He knew what gender the elf was! Vaarsuvius deserved respect at the very least, the person insisted. He cared about Vaarsuvius. There wasn't a serious reason to kill his lover. He didn't need to. Xykon was just being sadistic.

His lover? Had he become so soft and sentimental? Had he fallen so low as to use such a mushy term of endearment? No elf deserved to live when his baby brother died.

Just because he had killed one person he loved for Xykon's sake didn't mean he needed to kill another!

Love? Love Vaarsuvius? Love an elf? That was such a silly idea that it made the scientist gag.

Xykon was making him do this for his own satisfaction. What right did Redcloak have to extinguish that beautiful fire that burned so brightly in Vaarsuvius?

Right-Eye had died. Vaarsuvius should too.

Not necessarily! He had learned from Right-Eye, hadn't he? Vaarsuvius didn't need to die!

Right-Eye was dead.

Vaarsuvius wasn't.

Did the death of one make him obligated to kill the other?

Redcloak tightened his grip on the dagger and walked towards the staircase.


	11. Chapter 11

Xykon was a believer in enjoying the little things in life. What's the point of being all-powerful if you get bored?

Blasting adventurers was one of the enjoyable little things. It was better when they actually posed a challenge, but it was still fun.

He threw down a meteor swarm, knocking away a halfling that was trying to get into the castle.

It was more fun to torture Redcloak, though. Maybe he would get a really good reaction out of him. Wasn't he young for a goblin? Didn't the Crimson Mantle freeze him in time? Something like that? It was creepy that he stayed so calm most of the time. Maybe he'd eventually blow something in his brain. Imagine how _awesome _that would look!

Oh, right. One of the adventurers was shouting at him. Should he listen? Maybe he'd hear something interesting.

"—But I _will not_ stand by and let you—"

So much for interesting.

Xykon made a very fake yawn, floating up to the second story windows of the castle and throwing a practical wall of fireballs down on the adventurers.

The black, vaguely familiar guy with a sword—Grassblade? Swampsword? Something like that—leapt out of the way, swinging his glorified piece of metal and knocking Xykon's ankle with it.

Hey… wait… that actually hurt!

Oh right. That adventurer kid from the Battle of Azure City. Didn't he kill him?

Meh. Revival of adventurers was only to be expected.

Hey, wait…

"You're the adventurer group with the purple-haired snob as a spell caster!"

Everyone froze up for a moment.

"Have you been listening to me at all?" the guy with the sword asked, actually sounding exasperated as he raised his blade at the ready.

"No." Xykon flew a little higher so his legs were out of the swordsman's reach. "Hey, if you're here for it, you're a little late. My goblin cleric killed it and bound its soul to one of my baubles. Good luck finding it."

Not exactly the truth, but it was going to be the truth soon enough…

"What?"

Xykon almost laughed out loud at their faces. Most of them froze up a little, eyes wide. The usual reaction when he declared that a loved one was dead and gone—not so different from any others but always fun to see. The swordsman, for his part, actually raised his sword with his eyes smoldering.

"You know, I somehow doubt that Vaarsuvius would let himself go out without a bang. And even if you're telling the truth, we can always dig around until we find the stone you put him in and revive him. And we'll have even more reasons to fight. Haley, snap out of it and get him!"

Just like that, the red-headed chick jumped back into action and arrows were practically rained on Xykon.

He spun up a little. The arrows were having little to no effect. It was rather amusing.

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to hear more? The little upstart actually teleported in my main room and expected to be able to handle me. All he or she had were a bunch of flashy party tricks. It was funny to bash it into the ground until it couldn't even think straight."

The attacks were getting a little fiercer, but other than that, there was no reaction.

"It's no fun to taunt people when they won't say anything!" Xykon held out what remained of his hands. "Give me something to work with here! What would get you? Describing the torture? The hopelessness? The part where the little slut started sleeping with the leader of the goblins?"

"Wait, what was that last part?"

"Belkar, don't get distracted! He's probably just making a bunch of stuff up as he goes along."

Xykon gave a skeletal grin. "Hey, I don't make stuff up about Reddy's sex life. He's such a workaholic, he doesn't have time for one. I guess the elf was part of his work, so it was okay to do him or her."

The halfling looked like he was going to gag and the red-haired girl stuck her tongue out in disgust, the most obvious signs of discomfort from the adventurers.

"Don't you think it's an adorable idea? A frigid high cleric of the Dark One with a genderless stuck-up elf?" Xykon cocked his head. "Do you have any idea if it's a guy or a girl? I have some questions for Reddy now…"

"Oh will you just shut up?! That's disgusting!"

The swordsman jumped up, striking Xykon's leg hard. The lich spun farther up, wincing a little in pain, but he was grinning. He had successfully goaded the adventurers. Maybe this fight would get more interesting.

---

Vaarsuvius looked up in confusion when Redcloak entered, carelessly leaving the door slightly ajar behind him and therefore not activating the curse that made it impossible for Vaarsuvius to push open or shut. The elf was also confused by the fact that it was still the middle of the day—Redcloak had only visited once or twice during this time.

The most disturbing thing was the dark expression on Redcloak's face—well beyond any that Vaarsuvius was used to seeing. Equal only to the brief glimpse the elf had when the goblin had opened up, even if only slightly, about the reason he was so bitter towards humans.

"Redcloak?" Vaarsuvius stood up, frowning in concern and leaning a little on the wall to help support the weight.

"Vaarsuvius, I…" Redcloak looked down and tiredly rubbed his temples. "Please don't get up on my account."

"What is wrong?" Vaarsuvius ignored the goblin and walked up to him, lightly placing hands on scaled cheeks. "You are upset."

"Please don't touch me. You're making this harder."

"If I remember correctly, you did not stop touching me when I said the same." Vaarsuvius frowned and lightly trailed gentle fingers along Redcloak's scales. "Is there a battle? I believe I can hear it through your wards."

"Vaarsuvius, please don't do this." Redcloak gripped the elf's wrists gently, careful to keep his claws from scratching anything, and held Vaarsuvius's hands away from him. "Don't be tender. Not now."

"I recall hearing this conversation before." Vaarsuvius's brow furrowed slightly, lips pursing but voice still soft. "Redcloak, tell me what is wrong. This is not like you."

"Vaarsuvius, _please…_"

To an onlooker, this statement would have sounded irritable and curt. Vaarsuvius's ears twitched at the sound. To anyone who actually knew Redcloak's voice, the words were tight with pain.

Suddenly, Vaarsuvius knew what was supposed to happen.

"He sent you to kill me, didn't he?"

Redcloak took a deep breath, trying to find peace within himself, and averted his gaze, nodding. "And bind your soul."

There was silence. The sounds of battle barely filtered into the room, muffled to the point where it could be shrugged off as a drill for the soldiers or a training exercise.

"Well, there is hardly a decision you must make, is there?"

Redcloak looked down at his partner's face in confusion.

"Your entire life's work, your purpose, rides on the success of your plan. I'm a detriment to it." Vaarsuvius's head cocked slightly, hands slipping out of the goblin's grip. "The choice should be obvious for you."

"Vaarsuvius…"

"I don't mean to insult you or deny the power any feelings you have for me hold over you, Redcloak. I am pointing out the obvious. Your goal, no matter what I may think of your ways of achieving it, will always be far more important to you than anything else, myself included." Vaarsuvius's arms crossed, face tilting up slightly to meet the goblin's gaze. "Any indecision you feel now is merely superficial. You know what you will do as well as I do. Perhaps you will be saddened by it, but it won't matter to you in the long run."

"You obviously don't know me as well as you thought." Redcloak looked towards the wall. "I remember the people I care about. I remember their deaths, whether it was because of me or not." His eye glossed with memories. "I've killed too many people I love for this."

"You don't love me, Redcloak, just as I do not love you. We are foolish, but not that foolish." The words sounded hollow, even to Vaarsuvius. "Don't postpone the inevitable. It is only painful for both of us. Do it, before we do something else we both will regret."

"I…" Redcloak looked at Vaarsuvius, holding up his hand and hesitantly touching the elf's cheek. "Perhaps if we had been under different circumstances."

"Perhaps."

Redcloak lowered his hand and took the blade Xykon had given him from his belt. "I'm sorry, Vaarsuvius."

"I am sorry as well."

The elf's familiar promptly popped into being and flew right into Redcloak's face, aiming for the one remaining eye with its claws. The goblin recoiled and tried to hit the bird away, giving Vaarsuvius just enough time to zip forward and snatch the dagger from his hand, hitting him at the base of the back of his head with the hilt as hard as elvenly possible.

There was an ominous cracking sound and Redcloak crumpled to the floor.

Vaarsuvius dropped the blade and hurriedly knelt by the goblin and checked his pulse, breathing a small sigh of relief when it was proven that the cracking hadn't come from Redcloak's neck.

"It looks like it came from the hilt of this thing. What kind of cheap material does that when a frickin' elf with no Strength score uses it _once?!_" Blackwing perched on the edge of the bed and fluffed his wings. "It's just bad craftsmanship."

Vaarsuvius touched the goblin's forehead, breathing heavily. "Redcloak knew I would do that…"

"He practically let you go. Did you notice the open door? I noticed the open door. We should go and use that."

"I…" Vaarsuvius's hand shook slightly as it grasped the broken hilt of the dagger. "I… I should do this first."

The elf lightly rested the dagger on Redcloak's throat, sliding the blade in between the protective scales. "He works for Xykon. If he is gone, a great victory has been won for the forces of good."

"Then do it fast, Vaarsuvius. People are going to wonder where he went. He's not going to stay unconscious forever."

Vaarsuvius hesitated.

"Vaarsuvius, if you're going to kill him, do it now. If you're not, get up and start running."

The elf nodded tentatively, biting a red lower lip and blinking unusually quickly. "…Yes. I can't allow my feelings to come before my duty to the world and the Order."

Blackwing respectfully looked away and waited for his master.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey, is the elf a screamer? 'Cuz that might explain some sounds I've been hearing from its prison."

"Will you just _shut up?!_ _I have no interest in thinking about V like that!_" Roy growled and jumped up, wildly slicing upward to get the lich. At this point, Elan was holding his stomach while looking nauseous and Durkon was looking decidedly green. Belkar had outright quit trying to get Xykon and just slapped his hands over his ears, a weird combination of disgust, irritation, and something else unnamed plastered over his face. "Seriously! That's really sick!"

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault that your spell caster is a frickin' whore who'll sleep with whatever can keep it out of a torture chamber!"

An arrow came flying and slammed right through his empty eye socket and he suddenly grew a halfling with daggers on his ankle.

"…Ow. How the hell did you jump up here?!"

Xykon casually pulled the arrow out of his skull and shook the leg with the stab-happy halfling on it. "Hey, get off. Only room for one on this ride."

More stabbing. Xykon mused that the halfling should probably invest in metal that could actually harm liches.

"Alrighty, then. Meteor Swarm."

"SONOFA—"

The halfling slammed into a ground, leaving a small crater behind, and groaned in pain, blood oozing from a chest with ribs sticking out of it.

"Ooo, I love a good punching bag!"

"Yeah, well you're not getting that one!"

More arrows. The blond pun-spewing guy and the swordsman jumped up and started swatting at his feet while their cleric healed up the halfling. It was almost cute how the little adventurers actually thought that they could defeat him with only one weapon that worked against liches.

A shock went through his bare spinal cord and he froze. Almost as instinct, the adventurers froze as well, wondering what was happening. He didn't care about them. They couldn't do anything.

The shock had come from a little spell he had on the elf's and paladin's prisons.

They had both escaped. Alive and well.

Someone was going to pay.

"Oh little Reddy, you and Uncle Xykon are going to have a little talk after he disembowels your so-called 'sources of information.'"

"What the hell are you—"

"Cone of Cold."

The adventurers froze in little blocks of temporary magic ice.

"I have someone to find." Xykon immediately flew over the crowd, looking for the people he wanted. Redcloak had actually outright disobeyed him? Xykon didn't think that that would ever happen after that stint with Right-Eye. Well, at least this way, he can finally get proper revenge for the phylactery incident. "Where are you, you little corksuckers?"

There was a flash of violet among the battling crowds right next to the castle's main entrance, followed by a general outcry among the hobgoblins as one man without armor impaled them with a spear that could have only been taken from one of their fallen comrades.

"There you are."

He swooped down and wrapped cold phalanges around a warm throat, flying back up three stories and holding the creature he had found by the neck, tightening his grip hard.

"Ugh!"

The elf scrabbled at the bones around its neck feverishly, legs dangling in the air without use.

"You little whore."

Xykon slammed the elf against the wall of the castle, probably hastening the oncoming unconsciousness. "You know, I never liked the idea of anyone using sex to get what they wanted." Another slam. "It's a cheap trick. Fun for villains to take advantage of, but it makes for very cowardly heroes." Another slam. "I hate cowards." Another. "I especially hate smug cowards." Another. "I especially hate smug cowards who lose MY FRICKEN' PHYLACTERY!"

He tightened his grip on its throat, rammed his knee into its stomach, and ripped and tore at the elf's pointed ear savagely, eliciting a strangled cry and a warm flow of blood. Its face was turning an interesting shade of blue.

Xykon leaned forward so what was left of his mouth was right next to the elf's bleeding ear, his voice an angry hiss. "I'm going to kill you in the most painful way possible. Then I'm going to revive you. You'll come back or I'll hunt down everyone you love and have them thrown to the frickin' Snarl. I'll do it to Reddy too—the damn fool is useless anyway with the way he's been going about. I'm going to kill you and revive you and kill you and revive you until the end of time, and that'll just be the start of it, you wretched whore."

"…"

The elf's eyes fluttered shut, esophagus thoroughly crushed under Xykon's fingers.

"Good night, elf."

"VAARSUVIUS!"

A fireball crashed into Xykon's back. He teetered in the air and swooped down, casting his gaze around to see who did it, before a familiar glowing green sword slashed at him, causing him to drop the elf in his hands.

Xykon zipped up, spinning around and growling to himself to see the entire adventurer party plus a party of elves glaring up at him, the blond adventurer boy having caught the unconscious purple-haired spell caster and was now desperately trying to see if it was alive.

They had magic and a glowing sword against undead.

He didn't know where his phylactery was.

He roared in pure frustration. He'd have to withdraw from the battle or risk permanent death.

"EVERYONE WHO LISTENS TO ME OR REDCLOAK: KILL EVERYONE! KILL EVERYONE OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

---

Roy swore viciously as the hordes of hobgoblins jumped to attention at the shout of the lich, starting to crash on them like an ocean under the influence of a storm and an angry sea god. "Durkon, how's your magic doing?"

"Almost on empty, lad."

"How's V?"

Elan shrank back from the oncoming hobgoblins like a small child from a wildfire, hugging the unconscious elf tightly to his chest. Durkon quickly jumped up and prodded Vaarsuvius, checking its throat and tracing the black, bruised depression there with a worried flash in his eyes. "This is a nasty number tha' Xykon did on Vaarsuvius. I dunno 'ow serious it is without a better look. Coulda caused internal bleedin' or mortal damage t' th' esophagus." He leaned in a little, listening to the elf's chest. "'Artbeat's a little erratic, but tha' could jus' be th' adren'line. 'E's breathing, though. Tha's a good sign."

Roy knocked aside two hobgoblins that had lunged for the medic and bard tending to the wounded. "Sink what magic you can into keeping V alive. I just got back—no need for another dead party member to spend three months trying to resurrect. Elan, V won't survive this battle unconscious and fresh out of a dungeon and who-knows what else. Cast any illusions you think will help and get him out of here. We'll meet you in the Resistance HQ and then leave the city to find the wizard Hinjo gave us and teleport back to the refugee settlement."

"Yes, Roy!"

"And make sure V doesn't die, Elan!"

"He'll be safe!" Elan smiled, cradling the elf's body carefully and privately getting a little worried at its lightness while Durkon put in all the healing spells he could. "I promise."

---

The headquarters of the Resistance was milling with casualties of the battle. O-Chul was glad to be clothed again, and he never thought that he would enjoy sitting on a soft chair with some tea between his hands more.

"I can't believe you're alive, O-Chul!"

O-Chul looked up, smiling as the Order of the Stick (minus the elf, of course) sat across from him, their wounds from the battle healed and their cleric's spells spent. He couldn't help but pity them. They looked absolutely exhausted, and he strongly suspected that their bard was actually asleep with his eyes open.

"The Twelve Gods spared my life so that I may assist in the fight against the lich." O-Chul sipped his tea slowly. "It has not been easy, but I am confident that my experience will help our cause. Your friend, Vaarsuvius, was quite effective in helping us as well."

"What happened with V?" Roy sat forward, frowning. "He disappeared, talking about how he was going to face off with Xykon. We didn't see him after that until Xykon was strangling him in the air. And he looks different now. Less scary."

O-Chul sipped his tea, privately wondering how much information about the elf he should impart. There was a line between what was useful to know and what was strictly personal, but when it came to war and adventuring, the lines seemed to overlap.

He decided to give the elf a chance to tell her (or his? O-Chul wasn't quite sure, though he'd never say such a rude thing aloud) companions about the soul splice and her possible relationship with the goblin leader herself.

"Indeed. Your companion teleported into the lich's throne room looking quite menacing. During the fight that ensued, the cause of the change seemed to be lost." O-Chul sipped his tea again. "I managed to escape my prison while they fought and the elf managed to use a raven to drop the lich's phylactery into the sewer. No one knows if it is still in the pipe it fell in or if it was swept into a labyrinth, a treatment plant, or the ocean."

He gave that a moment to sink in. The members of the Order all exchanged looks.

"It has to be said: the androgynous twit managed to do something completely awesome there." The halfling sat back further in his seat, petting the deceased Lord Shojo's cat gently. "And if any of you tell it that I said that, I'm going to make sure you regret it."

"We're sure you will, Belkar."

Haley ran a hand through her shortened hair, shaking it out a little. "But what about after that? How did either of you survive the aftermath of that little stunt? Somehow, I don't think that Xykon was too happy."

"I am still rather confused by that myself." O-Chul sipped his tea. "The lich was quite ready to kill us both. I had resigned myself to it, as had your companion. His goblin subordinate, oddly enough, saved us at the last minute for the sake of any information we may have possessed about the gates." He glanced at the wall reflectively, looking through the people walking around them. "I believe that this is part of the reason that the lich forbade the goblin from regenerating an eye that he had lost in the fight. He is now half-blind, which will hopefully help us in the long run."

"Served him right."

O-Chul nodded sagely, taking another sip. "I fear that, after the battle, there is little I can say about your comrade. The goblin took Vaarsuvius away and we did not meet again until she came back to the throne room today with a dagger, a raven, and a set of keys. She told me that she had escaped her prison and it was time for us to leave. She seemed reluctant to talk about her time in captivity or the circumstances under which she was able to flee, so I did not pry. Before we came to the battle, she gave me her dagger, told me that I knew more about weapons than her, and she ran through the fight in hopes of finding you. Unfortunately, the lich found her first."

He placed his tea in his lap, keeping his hands cupped around the warmth. "I can only pray that she will survive her current wounds and that she has not suffered too much during our imprisonment."

"V 'as strange scars all o'er 'is face an' arms, though I 'aven't gotten a chance t' check under 'is robe t' see if there 're any there. They're well-healed an' not easily seen, but a good 'ealer c'n pick 'em up. It looks like 'e was mauled by somethin' with nasty claws then found by a healer who patched 'im up with a coupla good spells. Ye 'ave any idea where 'e got those?" Durkon shifted, obviously peeved by the idea that a party member had been hurt while he wasn't around to heal them and, on top of that, that he didn't know what had caused the hurt.

"The goblin took a special interest in her," O-Chul said carefully, reluctant to share too much information without getting the elf's side of the story. "He took a special interest in both of us—he was the only one who saw us as possible sources instead of cheap entertainment. I would guess that he treated her violently during interrogation, though I am curious as to why he would heal her." He shrugged. "She seemed very frail when I saw her last. The goblin said that he would need to heal her before any questioning or it would be possible that she would die if he wasn't careful. Perhaps he was wary about allowing her to be with too many wounds over a long period of time."

"Vaarsuvius, frail? I would have paid to see that." Belkar smirked and stroked Mr. Scruffy. "But clawing V's _face?_ The goblin's earned something from me for that."

"He's earned something from _all_ of us, Belkar. Be sure to let us all have a piece," Haley said, her smile tight.

"That is most of what I know about your comrade. I have information that I must get to Lord Hinjo, however."

"Sure. We'll bring you along when we leave for the new Azure City settlement. We need to wait for V to wake up, though."

Durkon stood up, brushing himself off. "'E'll wake up t'morrow at th' latest. Vaarsuvius may not be a swordsman, but 'e's tough as nails an' I doubt that 'e'll let anythin' like near-deadly strangulation keep 'im down fer long. Ev'n if'n it takes longer than t'day t' wake up, I'll 'ave me spells back t'morrow an' 'e'll be healed up in no time."

"Good." O-Chul stood, finishing his tea. "She is a noble and brave warrior. I am grateful to have her on our side."

"You're not the only one." Roy smiled and stood. "V'll be back on his feet before we know it. Right now, I think we all earned a good night's sleep. We'll talk about what to do about the phylactery in the morning."

Everyone nodded in agreement, save for the bard. He was obviously asleep already.

---

_"Vaarsuvius?" _

_The elf smiled, easily slipping delicate arms around Redcloak's neck and kissing him softly. Redcloak was more than happy to return the contact, wrapping his arms snuggly around a thin waist and kissing back tenderly. "So you ran?"_

_"Of course I did." Vaarsuvius pulled away, looking up and smiling, eyes glowing with the fire that wrapped itself so tightly in the goblin's heart. "You did not expect me to go quietly, did you?"_

_"Anyone who's known you for longer than a minute knows you wouldn't go without a fight, Vaarsuvius." Redcloak cocked his head. "Is this a dream or a dying hallucination? I trust you to not kill me, but my trust has been misplaced before."_

_"I would know no better than you, Redcloak." Vaarsuvius rested a light head on Redcloak's shoulder. "I am not real. I'm a figment of your imagination. Your subconscious." _

_"I guess that I'll just need to wait and see." _

_He tightened his grip a little around the elf's waist, nuzzling a pointed ear in a way that he knew from experience would make his partner squirm. He smiled when his efforts were rewarded._

_"Redcloak! You know what that does to me!"_

_Redcloak could feel his partner's face flush darkly and Vaarsuvius started to twist, ears twitching hard and a warbling coming from deep in an elven throat. "Of course I do. Why else would I do it?"_

_"Manipulative beast!" Vaarsuvius lightly hit the goblin's scaled chest, but was betrayed by the soft laughter coming out of a warm mouth. "Need I remind you that I know what affects you as well?"_

_"You wouldn't be able to find my spots without probing for a while."_

_"On the contrary, I make it a habit of paying attention to my partner during copulation. I like to understand their subtleties." Vaarsuvius ran a finger along Redcloak's scales until it hit a line in his side where his scales met and didn't completely cover the vulnerable skin beneath. _

_Redcloak shuddered, letting out a soft purring growl, and twisted away from the touch. "Hey! Don't mess around there if you don't plan on finishing things off." _

_"I doubt we have time." Vaarsuvius smiled and instead of continuing decided to wrap thin arms around the goblin's neck. Indeed, darkness was starting to grow on the horizon of the indescribable dream-landscape. He was either about to wake up or about to die. "But there is something that I, as your subconscious, must share with you."_

_"Yeah?"_

_Vaarsuvius glanced at the growing darkness. "Remember when I said that you did not love me?"_

_Redcloak hesitated, reluctant and skittish about where this was going. "Yes."_

_"I was wrong." _

_The darkness overcame everything and Vaarsuvius disappeared from Redcloak's grasp._


	13. Chapter 13

Vaarsuvius woke up very suddenly. Durkon was gently examining the bruises around its neck and then the elf snapped up, violet eyes wide, and choked something out—possibly a name—that didn't sound quite lucid.

"Vaarsuvius!"

The elf jerked back fearfully, looking wildly at the dwarf. Durkon firmly put his hands on the mage's shoulders, staring into confused purple eyes. "Vaarsuvius, calm down. Yer safe now. Yer wit' yer friends."

Vaarsuvius remained tense for a moment, then its gaze cleared, coming to terms with its surroundings, and muscles relaxed under Durkon's hands. "There ye go, Vaarsuvius."

"Durkon?"

The dwarf smiled a little at the unusual but obviously heartfelt use of his first name, certain that the elf would quickly go back to its regular formalness but glad for the small lapse. "I'm here. We all are, Vaarsuvius."

Vaarsuvius blinked, glancing away, eyes clouding up again with thought. "So we escaped."

"Ye did. We're not outta th' woods yet—we're still in th' city—but yer outta th' castle. Lean forward so I c'n heal up yer neck."

The elf did as requested, permitting the dwarf to lightly put his hands on a thin but blackened neck. "Cure Moderate Wounds."

Vaarsuvius took a grateful breath of air, suddenly realizing how difficult it had been a moment before. "Surely not that serious? It was only a bruise."

"More than tha', Vaarsuvius. Say what ye will aboot Xykon: th' lich is strong an' was jus' a bit o' pressure away from snappin' yer neck completely."

"I believe he did that on purpose. He has a certain disliking for me and a broken neck would have been a faster way to die." Vaarsuvius looked down, something deep within aching without reason despite the healing. "Did the paladin debrief you?"

"Aye. We're all impressed wit' what ye've done on yer own."

"I have done many things on my own."

Vaarsuvius didn't exactly sound proud.

Durkon frowned, taking note of his comrade's shadowed expression and the barely-visible healed cuts streaking across an otherwise beautiful face. A dark thought entered his mind, one that he couldn't shake.

"Did somethin' 'appen in tha' castle tha' ye'd like t' talk aboot, Vaarsuvius?"

Vaarsuvius looked at Durkon's face, searching it, gaze creepily hard to read.

"Maybe I will tell you one day, Durkon. If nothing else, you have been much wiser than I and I would trust you with my life. But I do not believe I am ready to share anything yet."

Durkon frowned, caught off guard by the openness and sincerity, but he instead sat across from the elf. "I c'n live with that."

Vaarsuvius slowly took out a familiar gold band and put wild purple hair into a ponytail. "Mr. Thundershield, I must say something to you while I can."

"I do too."

Vaarsuvius laced delicate fingers together. "I must apologize for my behavior before I left the ship, and again for before I was captured."

"What're ye talkin' aboot? Ye were right. Yer magic saved us."

"I was a fool. So much power… I allowed it to cloud my mind and get the better of me. I have done so many things… I used it so poorly…"

"Ye saved th' Azure refugees, tossed Xykon's phylactery int' th' sewer, an' saved O-Chul while we sat an' twiddled our thumbs." Durkon allowed himself to touch the elf's shoulder gently, and was moderately encouraged when he wasn't shrugged off. "Don't beat yerself up o'er what ye could 'ave done. Tha' way lies madness."

Vaarsuvius stared for a while, slowly shutting violet eyes and looking down. "Yes. I know that. Now."

"Rest up fer now. Ye'll be mobbed by ev'ryone else once they get back from talkin' wit' Thahn. I'll be outside if ye need anythin'." Durkon smiled. "It's good t' 'ave ye back, Vaarsuvius."

"It is good to be back."

The dwarf gave the elf's shoulder a gentle pat before he left, leaving the door shut behind him.

Vaarsuvius slowly lay on the bed, curling up, and ached for a familiar scaled hand to touch.

It was time to move on.

---

"Supreme Leader?"

Redcloak groaned softly in pain, sitting up with the gentle hand of Jirix to steady him, and rubbed the back of his head, wincing when he touched a tender swollen area. He shook his head slowly, trying to dispel the stars in his eyes. "I didn't know that Vaarsuvius was that strong…"

"The prisoner did quite a number, sir. She must have been in a hurry, though—it doesn't look like she tried to kill you."

That was odd. Vaarsuvius was well-aware of every area on his body that wasn't protected by scales.

Considering recent events, he had an idea of what that meant.

"I forgot about the raven." Redcloak put his hand lightly over his wound. "Cure Light Wounds. The prisoner had a familiar that distracted me."

"That would explain it, sir." Jirix helped Redcloak stand. "We won the battle, but suffered casualties."

"Well, we'll be prepared next time." Redcloak brushed himself off. "I want a full debriefing."

"Sir, the lich has asked that you speak with him when you wake."

"In that case, I'm going to be a while. Make sure medical attention goes to the people who need it, and tell Tsukiko to check out what slaves we have left. We'll need to make examples if we want to discourage any more rebellion." Redcloak sighed softly, readying himself for what would inevitably come when he saw Xykon. "And where's Xykon?"

"The throne room, sir."

"Alright, then. Dismissed. Thank you, Jirix."

The hobgoblin nodded and left, thinking the whole way. If his leader's lover had actually been his lover, she would have known how to kill him and that just a bash to the neck wouldn't have done it. And his leader had a Soul Bind scroll, so it wouldn't have been difficult to make sure he wouldn't be revived.

Either the elf was foolish and actually felt something for his leader or they had all been wrong about them sleeping together. Jirix found himself leaning towards the latter.

He decided to stop thinking about his leader's love life and focused on finding Tsukiko.

Redcloak rubbed his hands together, getting a little feeling into them, and glanced up at the window of the prison room. Vaarsuvius wouldn't be here anymore. No more nightly talks. No more warmth. No more fiery violet eyes. No more…

He sighed softly. By the Dark One, he _had_ fallen in love.

He clasped his hands and bowed his head, murmuring very softly, "Great Dark One, please help me find the strength to continue to do what is best for all goblinoid kind, no matter who stands in my way." _Because I'm not sure I can strike down another one I love for your sake._

Redcloak's holy symbol warmed against his chest. He let his hands drop and he turned to go to Xykon.


End file.
